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VOTES FOR WOMEN
VOTES FOR WOMEN
A PLAY IN THREE ACTS
BY
ELIZABETH ROBINS
MILLS & BOON, LIMITED
49 WHITCOMB STREET
LONDON W.C.
( I.
COURT THEATRE PLAYBILL
VOTES FOE WOMEN!
A Dramatic Tract in Three Acts
By ELIZABETH KOBINS
Lord John Wynnstay Mr. ATHOL FOBDE
The Hon. Geoffrey Stonor ... Mr. AUBREY SMITH
Mr. St. John Greatorex ... Mr. E. HOLMAN CLARK
Mr. Richard Farnborough... Mr. P. CLAYTON GREENE
Mr. Freddy Tunbridge ... Mr. PERCY MARMONT
Mr. Allen Trent Mr. LEWIS CASSON
* Mr. Walker Mr. EDMUND GWENN
Lady John Wynnstay Miss MAUD MILTON
Mrs. Heriot Miss FRANCES IVOR
Miss Vida Levering , Miss WYNNE-MATTHISON
* Miss Beatrice Dunbarton... Miss JEAN MAcKINLAY
Mrs. Freddy Tunbridge ... Miss GERTRUDE BURNETT
Miss Ernestine Blunt Miss DOROTHY MINTO
A Working Woman Miss AGNES THOMAS
ACT I. Wynnstay House in Hertfordshire.
ACT II. Trafalgar Square, London.
ACT III. Eaton Square, London.
The Entire Action of the Play takes place between Sunday
noon and six o'clock in the evening of the same day.
* In the text these characters have been altered to Mr. PILCHEB and
Miss JEAN Dunbarton.
CAST
LORD JOHN WYNNSTAY
LADY JOHN WYNNSTAY
MRS. HERIOT
Miss JEAN DUNBARTON
THE HON. GEOFFREY STONOR
MR. ST. JOHN GREATOREX
THE HON. RICHARD FARNBOROUGH
MR. FREDDY TUNBRIDGE
MRS. FREDDY TUNBRIDGE
MR. ALLEN TRENT
Miss ERNESTINE BLUNT
MR. PlLCHER ,
A WORKING WOMAN
and
Miss VIDA LEVERING
PERSONS IN THE CROWD : SERVANTS
His wife
Sister of Lady John
Niece to Lady John
and Mrs. Heriot
Unionist M.P. affianced
to Jean Dunbarton
Liberal M.P.
A Suffragette
A working man
IN THE Two HOUSES.
vil
•
ACT I
WYNNSTAY HOUSE IN HERTFORDSHIRE
ACT II
TRAFALGAR SQUARE, LONDON
ACT III
EATON SQUARE
(Entire Action of Play takes place between Sumday noon and
six o'clock in the evening of the same day.)
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VOTES FOR WOMEN
ACT I
HALL OF WYNNSTAY HOUSE.
Twelve o'clock, Sunday morning, end of June. With
the rising of the Curtain, enter the BUTLER.
As he is going, with majestic port, to answer the
door L., enter briskly from the garden, by
lower French window, LADY JOHN WYNN-
STAY, flushed, and flapping a garden hat to fan
herself. She is a pink-cheeked woman of fifty -
four, who has plainly been a beauty, keeps her
complexion, but is " gone to fat."
LADY JOHN. Has Miss Levering come down yet ?
BUTLER (pausing C.). I haven't seen her, m'lady.
LADY JOHN (almost sharply as BUTLER turns L.).
I won't have her disturbed if she's resting. (To herself
as she goes to writing-table.} She certainly needs it.
BUTLER. Yes, m'lady.
LADY JOHN (sitting at writing-table, her back to
front door). But I want her to know the moment she
comes down that the new plans arrived by the morn-
ing post.
BUTLER (pausing nearly at the door). Plans,
m'la
LADY JOHN. She'll understand. There they are.
2 VOTES FOR WOMEN
{Glancing at the clock.) It's very important she
should have them in time to look over before she
goes
(BUTLER opens the door L.)
(Over her shoulder.) Is that Miss Levering ?
BUTLER. No, m'lady. Mr. Farnborough.
[Exit BUTLER.
(Enter the HON. R. FARNBOROUGH. He is
twenty-six; reddish hair, high-coloured^
sanguine, self-important.')
FARNBOROUGH. I'm afraid I'm scandalously early.
It didn't take me nearly as long to motor over as Lord
John said.
LADY JOHN (shaking hands'). I'm afraid my
husband is no authority on motoring — and he's not
home yet from church.
FARN. It's the greatest luck finding you. I
thought Miss Levering was the only person under this
roof who was ever allowed to observe Sunday as a real
Day of Rest.
LADY JOHN. If you've come to see Miss
Levering
FARN. Is she here ? I give you my word I didn't
know it.
LADY JOHN (unconvinced). Oh ?
FARN. Does she come every week-end ?
LADY JOHN. Whenever we can get her to. But
we've only known her a couple of months.
FARN. And I have only known her three weeks !
Lady John, I've come to ask you to help me.
LADY JOHN (quickly). With Miss Levering ? I
can't do it!
FARN. No, no — all that's no good. She only laughs.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 3
LADY JOHN (relieved). Ah ! — she looks upon you
as a boy.
FABN (firing up). Such rot ! What do you think
she said to me in London the other day ?
LADY JOHN. That she was four years older than you ?
FABN. Oh, 1 knew that. No. She said she knew
she was all the charming things I'd been saying, but
there was only one way to prove it — and that was to
marry some one young enough to be her son. She'd
noticed that was what the most attractive women did
— and she named names.
LADY JOHN (laughing}. You were too old !
FARN. (nods). Her future husband, she said, was
probably just entering Eton.
LADY JOHN. Just like her !
FABN. (waving the subject away). No. I wanted
to see you about the Secretaryship.
LADY JOHN. You didn't get it, then ?
FABN. No. It's the grief of my life.
LADY JOHN. Oh, if you don't get one you'll get
another.
FABN. But there is only one.
LADY JOHN. Only one vacancy ?
FABN. Only one man I'd give my ears to work for.
LADY JOHN (smiling). I remember.
FABN. (quickly). Do I always talk about Stonor ?
Well, it's a habit people have got into.
LADY JOHN. I forget, do you know Mr. Stonor per-
sonally, or (smiling) are you just dazzled from afar ?
FABN. Oh, I know him. The trouble is he doesn't
know me. If he did he'd realise he can't be sure of
winning his election without my valuable services.
LADY JOHN. Geoffrey Stonor's re-election is always
a foregone conclusion.
4 VOTES FOR WOMEN
FARN. That the great man shares that opinion is
precisely his weak point. (Smiling.) His only
one.
LADY JOHN. You think because the Liberals swept
the country the last time
FARN. How can we be sure any Conservative seat
is safe after
(As LADY JOHN smiles and turns to her papers.)
Forgive me, I know you're not interested in politics
qua politics. But this concerns Geoffrey Stonor.
LADY JOHN. And you count on my being interested
in him like all the rest of my sex.
FARN. (leans forward). Lady John, I've heard the
news.
LADY JOHN. What news ?
FARN. That your little niece — the Scotch heiress —
is going to become Mrs. Geoffrey Stonor.
LADY JOHN. Who told you that ?
FARN. Please don't mind my knowing.
LADY JOHN {visibly perturbed). She had set her
heart upon having a few days with just her family
in the secret, before the flood of congratulations breaks
loose.
FARN. Oh, that's all right. I always hear things
before other people.
LADY JOHN. Well, I must ask you to be good
enough to be very circumspect. I wouldn't have my
niece think that I
FARN. Oh, of course not.
LADY JOHN. She will be here in an h6ur.
FARN. (jumping up delighted). What ? To-day ?
The future Mrs. Stonor !
LADY JOHN (harassed). Yes. Unfortunately we had
one or two people already asked for the week-end
VOTES FOR WOMEN 5
FARN. And I go and invite myself to luncheon 1
Lady John, you can buy me off. I'll promise to
remove myself in five minutes if you'll
LADY JOHN. No, the penalty is you shall stay and
keep the others amused between church and luncheon,
and so leave me free. (Takes up the plan.} Only
remember
FARN. Wild horses won't get a hint out of me ! I
only mentioned it to you because — since we've come
back to live in this part of the world you've been so
awfully kind — I thought, I hoped maybe you — you'd
put in a word for me.
LADY JOHN. With ?
FARN. With your nephew that is to be. Though
I'm not the slavish satellite people make out, you can't
doubt
LADY JOHN. Oh, I don't doubt. But you know Mr.
Stonor inspires a similar enthusiasm in a good many
young
FARN. They haven't studied the situation as I
have. They don't know what's at stake. They don't
go to that hole Dutfield as I did just to hear his Friday
speech.
LADY JOHN. Ah ! But you were rewarded. Jean
— my niece — wrote me it was " glorious."
FARN. (judicially}. Well, you know, I was disap-
pointed. He's too content just to criticise, just to
make his delicate pungent fun of the men who are
grappling — very inadequately, of course — still grap-
pling with the big questions. There's a carrying
power (gets up and faces an imaginary audience} —
some of Stonor's friends ought to point it out — there's
a driving power in the poorest constructive policy that
makes the most brilliant criticism look barren.
6 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LADY JOHN {with good-humoured malice). Who
told you that ?
FARN. You think there's nothing in it because /
say it. But now that he's coming into the family,
Lord John or somebody really ought to point out —
Stonor's overdoing his role of magnificent security!
LADY JOHN. I don't see even Lord John offering
to instruct Mr. Stonor.
FARN. Believe me, that's just Stonor's danger !
Nobody saying a word, everybody hoping he's on the
point of adopting some definite line, something strong
and original that's going to fire the public imagination
and bring the Tories back into power.
LADY JOHN. So he will.
FARN. (hotly}. Not if he disappoints meetings —
goes calmly up to town — and leaves the field to the
Liberals.
LADY JOHN. When did he do anything like that ?
FARN. Yesterday ! ( With a harassed air.} And
now that he's got this other preoccupation
LADY JOHN. You mean
FARN. Yes, your niece — that spoilt child of For-
tune. Of course I (Stopping suddenly.} She kept
him from the meeting last night. Well ! (sits down}
if that's the effect she's going to have it's pretty serious !
LADY JOHN (smiling}. You are !
FARN. I can assure you the election agent's more
so. He's simply tearing his hair.
LADY JOHN (more gravely and coming nearer}.
How do you know ?
FARN. He told me so himself — yesterday. I scraped
acquaintance with the agent just to see if — if
LADY JOHN. It's not only here that you manoeuvre
for that Secretaryship !
VOTES FOR WOMEN 7
FABN. (confidentially}. You can never tell when
your chance might come ! That election chap's promised
to keep me posted.
(The door flies open and JEAN DUNBABTON
rushes in.}
JEAN. Aunt Ellen — here I
LADY JOHN (astonished}. My dear child !
(They embrace. Enter LOBD JOHN from the
garden — a benevolent, silver-haired despot
of sixty-two.}
LOBD JOHN. I thought that was you running up
the avenue.
(JEAN greets her uncle warmly, but all the
time she and her aunt talk together. " How
did you get here so early ? " " I knew you'd
be surprised — wasn't it clever of me to
manage it? 1 don't deserve all the credit"
" But there isn't any train between •"
" Yes, wait till I tell you''1 " You walked
in the broiling sun " " No, no" " You
must be dead. Why didn't you telegraph ?
1 ordered the carriage to meet the 1.10.
Didn't you say the 1.10? Yes, I'm sure
you did — here's your letter"}
LOBD J. (has shaken hands with FABNBOBOUGH
and speaks through the torrent}. Now they'll tell each
other for ten minutes that she's an hour earlier than
we expected.
(LOBD JOHN leads FABNBOBOUGH towards the
garden.}
FABN. The Freddy Tunbridges said they were
coming to you this week.
8 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LORD J. Yes, they're dawdling through the park
with the Church Brigade.
FARN. Oh I (With a glance back at JEAN.) I'll go
and meet them.
[Exit FARNBOROUGH.
LORD J. (as he turns back). That discreet young
man will get on.
LADY JOHN (to JEAN). But how did you get here ?
JEAN (breathless). " He " motored me down.
LADY JOHN. Geoffrey Stonor ? (JEAN nods.) Why,
where is he, then ?
JEAN. He dropped me at the end of the avenue and
went on to see a supporter about something.
LORD J. You let him go off like that without
LADY JOHN (taking JEAN'S two hands). Just tell
me, my child, is it all right ?
JEAN. My engagement ? (Radiantly.) Yes, abso-
lutely.
L-lDY JOHN. Geoffrey Stonor isn't going to be — a
little too old for you ?
JEAN (laughing). Bless me, am I such a chicken ?
LADY JOHN. Twenty-four used not to be so young
— but it's become so.
JEAN. Yes, we don't grow up so quick. (Gaily.}
But on the other hand we stay up longer.
LORD J. You've got what's vulgarly called "looks,"
my dear, and that will help to keep you up !
JEAN (smiling}. I know what Uncle John's think-
ing. But I'm not the only girl who's been left " what's
vulgarly called " money.
LORD J. You're the only one of our immediate
circle who's been left so beautifully much.
JEAN. Ah, but remember Geoffrey could — every-
body knows he could have married any one in England.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 9
LADY JOHN (faintly ironic). I'm afraid everybody
does know it — not excepting Mr. Stonor.
LORD J. Well, how spoilt is the great man ?
JEAN. Not the least little bit in the world. You'll
see ! He so wants to know my best-beloved relations
better. (Another embrace.} An orphan has so few
belongings, she has to make the most of them.
LORD J. (smiling). Let us hope he'll approve of us
on more intimate acquaintance.
JEAN (firmly). He will. He's an angel. Why, he
gets on with my grandfather !
LADY JOHN. Does he ? (Teasing.) You mean to say
Mr. Geoffrey Stonor isn't just a tiny bit — " superior "
about Dissenters.
JEAN (stoutly). Not half as much as Uncle John
and all the rest of you ! My grandfather's been ill
again, you know, and rather difficult — bless him !
(Radiantly.) But Geoffrey (Clasps her hands.)
LADY JOHN. He must have powers of persuasion !
— to get that old Covenanter to let you come in an
abhorred motor-car — on Sunday, too !
JEAN (half whispering). Grandfather didn't know I
LADY JOHN. Didn't know ?
JEAN. I honestly meant to come by train. Geoffrey
met me on my way to the station. We had the most
glorious run. Oh, Aunt Ellen, we're so happy ! (Em-
bracing her.) I've so looked forward to having you
to myself the whole day just to talk to you about
LORD J. (turning away with affected displeasure).
Oh, very well
JEAN (catches him affectionately by the arm). You'd
find it dreffly dull to hear me talk about Geoffrey the
whole blessed day !
LADY JOHN. Well, till luncheon, my dear, you
10 VOTES FOR WOMEN
mustn't mind if I (To LORD JOHN, as she goes
to writing -table?) Miss Levering wasn't only tired
last night, she was ill.
LORD J. I thought she looked very white.
JEAN. Who is Miss You don't mean to say
there are other people ?
LADY JOHN. One or two. Your uncle's responsible
for asking that old cynic, St. John Greatorex, and I
JEAN (gravely}. Mr. Greatorex — he's a Radical,
isn't he ?
LORD J. (laughing}. Jean ! Beginning to " think
in parties " !
LADY JOHN. It's very natural now that she
should
JEAN. I only meant it was odd he should be here.
Naturally at my grandfather's
LORD J. It's all right, my child. Of course we
expect now that you'll begin to think like Geoffrey
Stonor, and to feel like Geoffrey Stonor, and to talk
like Geoffrey Stonor. And quite proper too.
JEAN (smiling}. Well, if I do think with my hus-
band and feel with him — as, of course, I shall — it will
surprise me if I ever find myself talking a tenth as
well
(Following her uncle to the French window.}
You should have heard him at Dutfield (Stopping
short, delighted.} Oh ! The Freddy Tunbridges.
What ? Not Aunt Lydia ! Oh-h !
(Looking back reproachfully at LADY JOHN, who
makes a discreet motion " / couldn't help it"}
(Enter the TUNBRIDGES. MR. FREDDY, of no
profession and of independent means.
Well-groomed, pleasant-looking ; of few
VOTES FOR WOMEN 11
words. A "nice man" who likes "nice
women" and has married one of them.
MRS. FREDDY is thirty. An attractive
figure, delicate face, intelligent grey eyes,
over-sensitive mouth, and naturally curling
dust-coloured hair.)
MRS. FREDDY. What a delightful surprise !
JEAN (shaking hands warmly). I'm so glad. How
d'ye do, Mr. Freddy ?
(Enter LADY JOHN'S sister, MRS. HERIOT —
smart, pompous, fifty— followed by FARN-
BOROUGH.)
MRS. HERIOT. My dear Jean ! My darling child !
JEAN. How do you do, aunt ?
MRS. H. (sotto voce). I wasn't surprised. I always
prophesied
JEAN. Sh ! Please !
FARN. We haven't met since you were in short
skirts. I'm Dick Farnborough.
JEAN. Oh, I remember.
(Ttiey shake hands.)
MRS. F. (looking round). Not down yet — the
Elusive One ?
JEAN. Who is the Elusive One ?
MRS. F. Lady John's new friend.
LORD J. (to JEAN). Oh, I forgot you hadn't seen
Miss Levering ; such a nice creature ! (To MRS.
FREDDY.) — don't you think ?
MRS. F. Of course I do. You're lucky to get her
to come so often. She won't go to other people.
LADY JOHN. She knows she can rest here.
FREDDY (who has joined LADY JOHN near the
writing-table). What does she do to tire her ?
12 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LADY JOHN. She's been helping my sister and me
with a scheme of ours.
MRS. H. She certainly knows how to inveigle
money out of the men.
LADY JOHN. It would sound less equivocal, Lydia,
if you added that the money is to build baths in our
Shelter for Homeless Women.
MRS. F. Homeless women ?
LADY JOHN. Yes, in the most insanitary part of Soho.
FREDDY. Oh — a — really.
FARN. It doesn't sound quite in Miss Levering's line !
LADY JOHN. My dear boy, you know as little about
what's in a woman's line as most men.
FREDDY (laughing}. Oh, I say !
LORD J. (indulgently to MR. FREDDY and FARN-
BOROUGH). Philanthropy in a woman like Miss
Levering is a form of restlessness. But she's a nice
creature ; all she needs is to get some " nice " fella to
marry her.
MRS. F. (laughing as she hangs on her husband's
arm}. Yes, a woman needs a balance wheel — if only to
keep her from flying back to town on a hot day like this.
LORD J. Who's proposing anything so
MRS. F. The Elusive One.
LORD J. Not Miss
MRS. F. Yes, before luncheon !
[Exit FARNBOROUGH to garden.
LADY JOHN. She must be in London by this after-
noon, she says.
LORD J. What for in the name of
LADY JOHN. Well, that I didn't ask her. But (con-
sults watch) I think I'll just go up and see if she's
changed her plans.
[Exit LADY JOHN.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 13
LOED J. Oh, she must be made to. Such a nice
creature ! All she needs
(Voices outside. Enter fussily, talking and
gesticulating, ST. JOHN GBBATORBX, fol-
lowed by Miss LEVERING and FARN-
BOROUGH. GREATOREX is sixty, wealthy,
a county magnate, and Liberal M.P. He
is square, thick-set, square-bearded. His
shining bald pate has two strands of coal-
black hair trained across his crown from
left ear to right and securely pasted there.
He has small, twinkling 'eyes and a repu-
tation for telling] good stories after dinner
when ladies have left the room. He is
carrying a little book for Miss LEVERING.
She (parasol over shoulder), an attractive,
essentially feminine, and rather " smart "
woman of thirty-two, with a somewhat
foreign grace ; the kind of whom men and
women alike say, " What's her story?
Why doesn't she marry?")
GREATOREX. I protest ! Good Lord ! what are the
women of this country coming to ? I protest against
Miss Levering being carried off to discuss anything so
revolting. Bless my soul ! what can a woman like you
know about it ?
Miss LEVERING (smiling). Little enough. Good
morning.
GREAT, (relieved). I should think so indeed !
LORD J. (aside). You aren't serious about going
GREAT, (waggishly breaking in). We were so happy
out there in the summer-house, weren't we ?
MISS L. Ideally.
14 VOTES FOR WOMEN
GREAT. And to be haled out to talk about Public
Sanitation forsooth !
(Hurries after MlSS LEVERING as she advances
to speak to the FREDDYS, &c.)
Why, God bless my soul, do you realise that's
drains ?
MlSS L. I'm dreadfully afraid it |is ! (Holds out
her hand for the small book GREATOREX is carrying.}
(GREATOREX returns Miss LEVERING'S look
open ; he has been keeping the place with his
finger. She opens it and shuts her handker-
chief in.)
GREAT. And we in the act of discussing Italian
literature ! Perhaps you'll tell me that isn't a more
savoury topic for a lady.
MlSS L. But for the tramp population less con-
ducive to savouriness, don't you think, than — baths ?
GREAT. No, I can't understand this morbid in-
terest in vagrants. You're much too — leave it to the
others.
JEAN. What others ?
GREAT, (with smiling impertinence). Oh, the sort
of woman who smells of indiarubber. The typical
English spinster. (To MlSS LEVERING.) You know-
Italy's full of her. She never goes anywhere without
a mackintosh and a collapsible bath — rubber. When
you look at her, it's borne in upon you that she doesn't
only smell of rubber. She's rubber too.
LORD J. (laughing). This is my niece, Miss Jean
Dunbarton, Miss Levering.
JEAN. How do you do ? (They shake hands.)
GREAT, (to JEAN). I'm sure you agree with me.
JEAN. About Miss Levering being too
VOTES FOR WOMEN 15
GREAT. For that sort of thing — much too
Miss L. What a pity you've exhausted the more
eloquent adjectives.
GREAT. But I haven't !
MISS L. Well, you can't say to me as you did to
Mrs. Freddy : " You're too young and too happily
married — and too
(Glances round smiling at MRS. FREDDY, who,
oblivious, is laughing and talking to her
husband and MRS. HERIOT.)
JEAN. For what was Mrs. Freddy too happily
married and all the rest ?
MISS L. (lightly). Mr. Greatorex was repudiating
the horrid rumour that Mrs. Freddy had been speaking
in public ; about Women's Trade Unions — wasn't that
what you said, Mrs. Heriot ?
LORD J. (chuckling). Yes, it isn't made up as
carefully as your aunt's parties usually are. Here
we've got Greatorex (takes his arm) who hates political
women, and we've got in that mild and inoffensive-
looking little lady
(Motion over his shoulder towards MRS. FREDDY.)
GREAT, (shrinking down stage in comic terror).
You don't mean she's really
JEAN (simultaneously and gaily rising'). Oh, and
you've got me !
LORD J. (with genial affection). My dear child, he
doesn't hate the charming wives and sweethearts who
help to win seats.
(JEAN makes her uncle a discreet little signal
of warning.)
Miss L. Mr. Greatorex objects only to the unsexed
creatures who — a
16 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LORD J. (hastily to cover up his slip}. Yes, yes,
who want to act independently of men.
MiSS L. Vote, and do silly things of that sort.
LORD J. (with enthusiasm). Exactly.
MRS. H. It will be a long time before we hear any
more of that nonsense.
JEAN. You mean that rowdy scene in the House
of Commons ?
MRS. H. Yes. No decent woman will be able to
say " Suffrage " without blushing for another genera-
tion, thank Heaven !
MiSS L. (smiling). Oh ? I understood that so little
I almost imagined people were more stirred up about
it than they'd ever been before.
GREAT, (with a quizzical affectation of gallantry).
Not people like you.
MiSS L. (teasingly). How do you know ?
GREAT, (with a start). God bless my soul !
LORD J. She's saying that only to get a rise out of
you.
GREAT. Ah, yes, your frocks aren't serious enough.
MiSS L. I'm told it's an exploded notion that the
Suffrage women are all dowdy and dull.
GREAT. Don't you believe it !
MiSS L. Well, of course we know you've been an
authority on the subject for — let's see, how many years
is it you've kept the House in roars whenever Woman's
Rights are mentioned ?
GREAT, (flattered but not entirely comfortable). Oh,
as long as I've known anything about politics there
have been a few discontented old maids and hungry
widows
MiSS L. " A few ! " That's really rather forbear-
ing of you, Mr. Greatorex. I'm afraid the number of
VOTES FOR WOMEN 17
the discontented and the hungry was 96,000 — among
the mill operatives alone. (Hastily.) At least the
papers said so, didn't they ?
GREAT. Oh, don't ask me ; that kind of woman
doesn't interest me, I'm afraid. Only I am able to
point out to the people who lose their heads and seem
inclined to treat the phenomenon seriously that there's
absolutely nothing new in it. There have been women
for the last forty years who haven't had anything more
pressing to do than petition Parliament.
MlSS L. (reflectively). And that's as far as they've
got.
LORD J. (turning on his heel). It's as far as they'll
ever get.
(Meets the group up R. coming down.)
Miss L. (chaffing GREATORBX). Let me see, wasn't
a deputation sent to you not long ago ? (Sits C.)
GREAT. H'm ! (Irritably.) Yes, yes.
Miss L. (as though she has just recalled the cir-
cumstances). Oh, yes, I remember. I thought at
the time, in my modest way, it was nothing short of
heroic of them to go asking audience of their arch
opponent.
GREAT, (stoutly). It didn't come off.
MlSS L. (innocently). Oh ! I thought they insisted
on bearding the lion in his den.
GREAT. Of course I wasn't going to be bothered
with a lot of
MlSS L. You don't mean you refused to go out and
face them !
GREAT, (with a comic look of terror). I wouldn't
have done it for worlds. But a friend of mine went
and had a look at 'em.
MlSS L. (smiling). Well, did he get back alive ?
18 VOTES FOR WOMEN
GREAT. Yes, but he advised me not to go. "You're
quite right," he said. " Don't you think of bothering,"
he said. " I've looked over the lot," he said, " and
there isn't a week-ender among 'em."
JEAN (gaily precipitates herself into the conversa-
tion). You remember Mrs. Freddy's friend who came
to tea here in the winter ? (To GREATOREX.) He
was a member of Parliament too — quite a little young
one — he said women would never be respected till they
had the vote !
(GRBATORBX snorts, the other men smile and
all the women except MRS. HERIOT.)
MRS. H. (sniffing}. I remember telling him that
he was too young to know what he was talking
about.
LORD J. Yes, I'm afraid you all sat on the poor
gentleman.
LADY JOHN (entering}. Oh, there you are !
(Greets Miss LEVERING.)
JEAN. It was such fun. He was flat as a pancake
when we'd done with him. Aunt Ellen told him
with her most distinguished air she didn't want to be
" respected."
MRS. F. (with a little laugh of remonstrance}. My
dear Lady John !
FARN. Quite right ! Awful idea to think you're
respected !
MlSS L. (smiling}. Simply revolting.
LADY JOHN (at writing-table}. Now, you frivolous
people, go away. We've only got a few minutes to
talk over the terms of the late Mr. Soper's munificence
before the carriage comes for Miss Levering
MRS. F. (to FARNBOROUGH). Did you know she'd
VOTES FOR WOMEN 19
got that old horror to give Lady John £8,000 for her
charity before he died ?
MRS. F. Who got him to ?
LADY JOHN. Miss Levering. He wouldn't do it
for me, but she brought him round.
FREDDY. Yes. Bah-ee Jove ! I expect so.
MRS. F. (turning enthusiastically to her husband).
Isn't she wonderful ?
LORD J. (aside). Nice creature. All she needs
is
(MR. and MRS. FREDDY and FARNBOROUGH
stroll off to the garden. LADY JOHN on
far side of the writing-table. MRS. HERIOT
at the top. JEAN and LORD JOHN, L.)
GREAT, (on divan c., aside to Miss LEVERING).
Too " wonderful " to waste your time on the wrong
people.
MlSS L. I shall waste less of my time after
this.
GREAT. I'm relieved to hear it. I can't see you
wheedling money for shelters and rot of that sort out
of retired grocers.
MlSS L. You see, you call it rot. We couldn't have
got £8,000 out of you.
GREAT, (very low). I'm not sure.
(Miss LEVERING looks at him.)
GREAT. If I gave you that much — for your little
projects — what would you give me ?
MlSS L. (speaking quietly). Soper didn't ask that,
GREAT, (horrified). Soper ! I should think not !
LORD J. (turning to Miss LEVERING). Soper ?
You two still talking Soper ? How flattered the old
beggar'd be !
20 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LORD J. (lower). Did you hear what Mrs. Heriot
said about him ? " So kind ; so munificent — so
vulgar, poor soul, we couldn't know him in London —
but we shall meet him in heaven"
(GREATOREX and LORD JOHN go off laughing.)
LADY JOHN (to Miss Levering). Sit over there, my
dear. (Indicating chair in front of writing-table.)
You needn't stay, Jean. This won't interest you.
Miss L. (in the tone of one agreeing). It's only an
effort to meet the greatest evil in the world ?
JEAN (pausing as she 's following the others). What
do you call the greatest evil in the world ?
(Looks pass between MRS. HERIOT and LADY JOHN.)
MlSS L. (without emphasis). The helplessness of
women.
(JEAN stands still.)
LADY JOHN (rising and putting her arm about the
girl's shoulder). Jean, darling, I know you can think
of nothing but (aside) him — so just go and
JEAN (brightly). Indeed, indeed, I can think of
everything better than I ever did before. He has lit
up everything for me — made everything vivider, more
— more significant.
Miss L. (turning round). Who has ?
JEAN. Oh, yes, I don't care about other things less
but a thousand times more.
LADY JOHN. You are in love.
Miss L. Oh, that's it ! (Smiling at JEAN.) I con-
gratulate you.
LADY JOHN (returning to the outspread plan).
Well — this, you see, obviates the difficulty you raised.
MlSS L. Yes, quite.
MRS. H. But it's going to cost a great deal more.
MlSS L. It's worth it.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 21
MRS. H. We'll have nothing left for the organ at
St. Pilgrim's.
LADY JOHN. My dear Lydia, we're putting the organ
aside.
MRS. H. (with asperity). We can't afford to " put
aside " the elevating effect of music.
LADY JOHN. What we must make for, first, is the
cheap and humanely conducted lodging-house.
MRS. H. There are several of those already, but
poor St. Pilgrim's
MlSS L. There are none for the poorest women.
LADY JOHN. No, even the excellent Soper was for
multiplying Rowton Houses. You can never get men
to realise — you can't always get women
MlSS L. It's the work least able to wait.
MRS. H. I don't agree with you, and I happen to
have spent a great deal of my life in works of
charity.
MlSS L. Ah, then you'll be interested in the girl
I saw dying in a Tramp Ward a little while ago.
Glad her cough was worse — only she mustn't die
before her father. Two reasons. Nobody but her to
keep the old man out of the workhouse — and " father
is so proud." If she died first, he would starve ; worst
of all he might hear what had happened up in London
to his girl.
MRS. H. She didn't say, I suppose, how she hap-
pened to fall so low.
MlSS L. Yes, she had been in service. She lost the
train back one Sunday night and was too terrified of
her employer to dare ring him up after hours. The
wrong person found her crying on the platform.
MRS. H. She should have gone to one of the
Friendly Societies.
22 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS L. At eleven at night ?
MRS. H. And there are the Rescue Leagues. I
myself have been connected with one for twenty
years
MlSS L. (reflectively). " Twenty years ! " Always
arriving " after the train's gone " — after the girl and
the Wrong Person have got to the journey's end.
(MRS. HERIOT'S eyes flash.]
JEAN. Where is she now ?
LADY JOHN. Never mind.
MlSS L. Two nights ago she was waiting at a street
corner in the rain.
MRS. H. Near a public-house, I suppose.
MlSS L. Yes, a sort of "public-house." She was
plainly dying — she was told she shouldn't be out in the
rain. " I mustn't go in yet," she said. " This is what he
gave me," and she began to cry. In her hand were
two pennies silvered over to look like half-crowns.
MRS. H. I don't believe that story. It's just the
sort of thing some sensation-monger trumps up — now,
who tells you such
MlSS L. Several credible people. I didn't be-
lieve them till
JEAN. Till ?
MlSS L. Till last week I saw for myself.
LADY JOHN. Saw f Where ?
MlSS L In a low lodging-house not a hundred
yards from the church you want a new organ for.
MRS. H. How did you happen to be there ?
MlSS L. I was on a pilgrimage.
JEAN. A pilgrimage ?
MlSS L. Into the Underworld.
LADY JOHN. You went ?
JEAN. How could you ?
VOTES FOR WOMEN 23
<
Miss L. I put on an old gown and a tawdry hat
(Turns to LADY JOHN.) You'll never know how
many things are hidden from a woman in good clothes.
The bold, free look of a man at a woman he believes to
be destitute — you must feel that look on you before you
can understand — a good half of history.
MRS. H. (rises). Jean !
JEAN. But where did you go — dressed like that ?
MlSS L. Down among the homeless women — on a
wet night looking for shelter.
LADY JOHN (hastily). No wonder you've been ill.
JEAN (under breath). And it's like that ?
MlSS L. No.
JEAN. No ?
MlSS L. It's so much worse I dare not tell about it
— even if you weren't here I couldn't.
MRS. H. (to JEAN). You needn't suppose, darling,
that those wretched creatures feel it as we would.
MlSS L. The girls who need shelter and work aren't
all serving-maids.
MRS. H. (with an involuntary flash). We know
that all the women who — make mistakes aren't.
MlSS L. (steadily}. That is why every woman ought
to take an interest in this — every girl too.
JEAN ) , . ( Yes— oh, yes !
I (simul- XT mu '. ' .
7 N \ No. This is a matter
LADY JOHN) taneously}\ for U8 older
MRS. H. (with an air of sly challenge). Or for a
person who has some special knowledge. (Signifi-
cantly.} We can't pretend to have access to such
sources of information as Miss Levering.
Miss L. (meeting MRS. HERIOT'S eye steadily}. Yes,
for I can give you access. As you seem to think, I
have some first-hand knowledge about homeless girls.
24
LADY JOHN (cheerfully turning it aside). Well,
my dear, it will all come in convenient. (Tapping
the plan.)
MlSS L. It once happened to me to take offence at
- an ugly thing that was going on under my father's
roof. Oh, years ago ! I was an impulsive girl. I
turned my back on my father's house
LADY JOHN (for JEAN'S benefit). That was ill-
advised.
MES. H. Of course, if a girl does that
Miss L. That was what all my relations said (with
a glance at JEAN), and I couldn't explain.
JEAN. Not to your mother ?
Miss L. She was dead. I went to London to a
small hotel and tried to find employment. I wandered
about all day and every day from agency to agency. I
was supposed to be educated. I'd been brought up
partly in Paris ; I could play several instruments, and
sing little songs in four different tongues. (Slight
pause.)
JEAN. Did nobody want you to teach French or
sing the little songs ?
MlSS L. The heads of schools thought me too
young. There were people ready to listen to my
singing, but the terms — they were too hard. Soon
my money was gone. I began to pawn my trinkets.
They went.
JEAN. And still no work ?
MlSS L. No ; but by that time I had some real
education — an unpaid hotel bill, and not a shilling
in the world. (Slight pause.) Some girls think it
hardship to have to earn their living. The horror
is not to be allowed to
JEAN, (bending forward). What happened ?
VOTES FOR WOMEN 25
LADY JOHN (rises). My dear (to Miss LEVERING),
have your things been sent down ? Are you quite
ready ?
MISS L. Yes, all but my hat.
JEAN. Well ?
Miss L. Well, by chance I met a friend of my
family.
JEAN. That was lucky.
MlSS L. I thought so. He was nearly ten years
older than I. He said he wanted to help me.
(Pause.)
JEAN. And didn't he ?
(LADY JOHN lays her hand on Miss LEVEE-
ING'S shoulder.)
Miss L. Perhaps after all he did. (With sudden
change of tone.) Why do I waste time over myself ?
I belonged to the little class of armed women. My
body wasn't born weak, and my spirit wasn't broken
by the habit of slavery. But, as Mrs. Heriot was kind
enough to hint, I do know something about the pos-
sible fate of homeless girls. I found there were
pleasant parks, museums, free libraries in our great
rich London — and not one single place where destitute
women can be sure of work that isn't killing or food
that isn't worse than prison fare. That's why women
ought not to sleep o' nights till this Shelter stands
spreading out wide arms.
JEAN. No, no
MRS. H. (gathering up her gloves, fan, prayer-
book, <kc.). Even when it's built — you'll see ! Many
of those creatures will prefer the life they lead. They
like it.
Miss L. A woman told me — one of the sort that
26 VOTES FOR WOMEN
knows — told me many of them " like it" so much that
they are indifferent to the risk of being sent to prison.
" It gives them a rest" she said.
LADY JOHN. A rest !
(Miss LEVERING glances at the clock as she rises
to go upstairs.}
(LADY JOHN and MRS. HERIOT bend their
heads over the plan, covertly talking.)
JEAN (intercepting Miss LEVERING). I want to
begin to understand something of — I'm horribly
ignorant.
MlSS L. (Looks at her searchingly). I'm a rather
busy person
JEAN, (interrupting). I have a quite special reason
for wanting not to be ignorant. (Impulsively). I'll
go to town to-morrow, if you'll come and lunch
with me.
Miss L. Thank you — I (catches MRS. HERIOT'S
eye) — I must go and put my hat on.
[Exit upstairs.
MRS. H. (aside). How little she minds all these
horrors !
LADY JOHN. They turn me cold. Ugh ! (Rising,
harassed.) I wonder if she's signed the visitors'
book !
MRS. H. For all her Shelter schemes, she's a hard
woman.
JEAN. Miss Levering is ?
MRS. H. Oh, of course you won't think so. She
has angled very adroitly for your sympathy.
JEAN. She doesn't look hard.
LADY JOHN (glancing at JEAN and taking alarm).
I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth — always
VOTES FOR WOMEN 27
like this ... as if she were holding back something
by main force !
MBS. H. (half under her breath}. Well, so she is.
[Exit LADY JOHN into the lobby to look at the
visitors' book.
JEAN. Why haven't I seen her before ?
MRS. H. Oh, she's lived abroad. (Debating with
herself.} You don't know about her, I suppose ?
JEAN. I don't know how Aunt Ellen came to know
her.
MBS. H. That was my doing. But I didn't bargain
for her being introduced to you.
JEAN. She seems to go everywhere. And why
shouldn't she ?
MRS. H. (quickly). You mustn't ask her to Eaton
Square.
JEAN. I have.
MRS. H. Then you'll have to get out of it.
JEAN (with a stubborn look}. I must have a reason.
And a very good reason.
MRS. H. Well, it's not a thing I should have pre-
ferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to
guide ... so I suppose you'll have to know. (Lower-
ing her voice.} It was ten or twelve years ago. I
found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse.
We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's
wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what
I thought. I soon saw how it was — I thought she was
dying.
JEAN. Dying ! What was the
MRS. H. I got no more out of her than the farmer's
wife did. She had had no letters. There had been no
one to see her except a man down from London, a
28 VOTES FOR WOMEN
shady-looking doctor — nameless, of course. And then
this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respect-
able people, were incensed. They were for turning the
girl out.
JEAN. Oh I but
MRS. H. Yes. Pitiless some of these people are !
I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we
became friends . . . that is, " sort of." In spite of all
I did for her
JEAN. What did you do ?
MBS. H. I — I've told you, and I lent her money.
No small sum either.
JEAN. Has she never paid it back ?
MRS. H. Oh, yes, after a time. But I always kept
her secret — as much as I knew of it.
JEAN. But you've been telling me !
MRS. H. That was my duty — and I never had her
full confidence.
JEAN. Wasn't it natural she
MRS. H. Well, all things considered, she might
have wanted to tell me who was responsible.
JEAN. Oh ! Aunt Lydia !
MRS. H. All she ever said was that she was ashamed
— (losing her temper and her fine feeling for the inno-
cence of her auditor) — ashamed that she " hadn't had
the courage to resist " — not the original temptation but
the pressure brought to bear on her " not to go through
with it," as she said.
JEAN (wrinkling Tier brows). You are being so
delicate — I'm not sure I understand.
MRS. H. (irritably). The only thing you need
understand is that she's not a desirable companion
for a young girl.
(Pause.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 29
JEAN. When did you see her after — after
MRS. H. (with a slight grimace). I met her last
winter at the Bishop's. (Hurriedly.} She's a connec-
tion of his wife's. They'd got her to help with some
of their work. Then she took hold of ours. Your
aunt and uncle are quite foolish about her, and I'm
debarred from taking any steps, at least till the Shelter
is out of hand.
JEAN. I do rather wonder she can bring herself to
talk about — the unfortunate women of the world.
MRS. H. The effrontery of it !
JEAN. Or ... the courage ! (Puts her hand up
to her throat as if the sentence had caught there.}
MRS. H. Even presumes to set me right ! Of
course I don't mind in the least, poor soul . . . but I
feel I owe it to your dead mother to tell you about her,
especially as you're old enough now to know something
about life
JEAN (slowly} — and since a girl needn't be very old
to suffer for her ignorance. (Moves a little away.} I
felt she was rather wonderful.
MRS. H. Wonderful !
JEAN (pausing}. ... To have lived through that
when she was . . . how old ?
MRS. H. (rising}. Oh, nineteen or thereabouts.
JEAN. Five years younger than I. To be abandoned
and to come out of it like this !
MRS. H. (laying her hand on the girTs shoulder}.
It was too bad to have to tell you such a sordid story
to-day of all days.
JEAN. It is a very terrible story, but this wasn't a
bad time. I feel very sorry to-day for women who
aren't happy.
(Motor horn heard faintly.}
(Jumping up.} That's Geoffrey 1
30 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MRS. H. Mr. Stonor ! What makes you think . . . ?
JEAN. Yes, yes. I'm sure, I'm sure
(Checks herself as she is flying off'. Turns and
sees LORD JOHN entering from the garden.)
(Motor horn louder.}
LORD J. Who do you think is motoring up the
drive ?
JEAN (catching hold of him). Oh, dear ! how am I
ever going to be able to behave like a girl who isn't
engaged to the only man in the world worth marrying ?
MRS. H. You were expecting Mr. Stonor all the
time !
JEAN. He promised he'd come to luncheon if it was
humanly possible ; but I was afraid to tell you for fear
he'd be prevented.
LORD J. (laughing as he crosses to the lobby). You
felt we couldn't have borne the disappointment.
JEAN. I felt I couldn't.
(The lobby door opens. LADY JOHN appears
radiant, folio wed by a tall figure in a dust-
coat, &c., no goggles. He has straight, firm
features, a little blunt; fair skin, high-
coloured ; fine, straight hair, very fair ;
grey eyes, set somewhat prominently and
heavy when not interested ; lips full, but
firmly moulded. GEOFFREY STONOR is
heavier than a man of forty should be,
but otherwise in the pink of physical con-
dition. The FOOTMAN stands waiting to
help him off with his motor coat.)
LADY JOHN. Here's an agreeable surprise !
(JEAN has gone forward only a step, and stands
smiling at the approaching figure.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 31
LOBD J. How do you do ? (As he comes between
them and briskly shakes hands with STONOR.)
(FARNBOROUGH appears at the French window.)
FARN. Yes, by Jove ! Turning to the others
clustered round the window.*) What gigantic luck !
(Those outside crane and glance, and then
elaborately turn their backs and pretend
to be talking among themselves, but betray
as far as manners permit the enormous
sensation the arrival has created.)
STONOR. How do you do ?
(Shakes hands with MRS. HERIOT, who has
rushed up to him with both hers out-
stretched. He crosses to JEAN, who meets
him half way ; they shake hands, smiling
into each other's eyes.}
JEAN. Such a long time since we met !
LORD J. (to STONOR). You're growing very enter-
prising. I could hardly believe my ears when I heard
you'd motored all the way from town to see a sup-
porter on Sunday.
STONOR. I don't know how we covered the
ground in the old days. (To LADY JOHN.) It's no
use to stand for your borough any more. The
American, you know, he " runs " for Congress. By
and by we shall all be flying after the thing we want.
(Smiles at JEAN.)
JEAN. Sh ! (Smiles and then glances over her
shoulder and speaks low.} All sorts of irrelevant people
here.
FARN. (unable to resist the temptation, comes for-
ward). How do you do, Mr. Stonor ?
32 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOR. Oh—how d'you do.
FARN. Some of them were arguing in the smoking-
room last night whether it didn't hurt a man's chances
going about in a motor.
LORD J. Yes, we've been hearing a lot of stories
about the unpopularity of motor-cars — among the
class that hasn't got 'em, of course. What do you
say ?
LADY JOHN. I'm sure you gain more votes by being
able to reach so many more of your constituency than
we used
STONOR. Well, I don't know — I've sometimes
wondered whether the charm of our presence wasn't
counterbalanced by the way we tear about smothering
our fellow-beings in dust and running down their pigs
and chickens, not to speak of their children.
LORD J. (anxiously}. What on the whole are the
prospects ?
(FARNBOROUGH cranes forward.)
STONOR (gravely). We shall have to work harder
than we realised.
FARN. Ah!
(Retires towards group.)
JEAN (in a half-aside as she slips her arm in her
uncle's and smiles at GEOFFREY). He says he
believes I'll be able to make a real difference to his
chances. Isn't it angelic of him ?
STONOR (in a jocular tone). Angelic ? Macchia-
velian. I pin all my hopes on your being able to
counteract the pernicious influence of my opponent's
glib wife.
JEAN. You want me to have a real share in it all,
don't you, Geoffrey ?
VOTES FOR WOMEN 33
STONOR (smiling into her eyes). Of course I do.
(FARNBOROUGH drops down again on pretence
of talking to MRS. HERIOT.)
LORD J. I don't gather you're altogether sanguine.
Any complication ?
(JEAN and LADY JOHN stand close together
(C.), the girl radiant, following STONOR
with her eyes and whispering to the sympa-
thetic elder woman.}
STONOR. Well (taking Sunday paper out of
pocket}, there's this agitation about the Woman
Question. Oddly enough, it seems likely to affect the
issue.
LORD J. Why should it ? Can't you do what the
other four hundred have done ?
STONOR (laughs). Easily. But, you see, the mere
fact that four hundred and twenty members have been
worried into promising support — and then once in the
House have let the matter severely alone
LORD J. (to STONOR). Let it alone ! Bless my
soul, I should think so indeed.
STONOR. Of course. Only it's a device that's
somewhat worn.
(Enter Miss LEVERING, with hat on; gloves
and veil in her hand.}
LORD J. Still if they think they're getting a future
Cabinet Minister on their side
STONOR ... it will be sufficiently embarrassing
for the Cabinet Minister.
(STONOR turns to speak to JEAN. Stops dead
seeing Miss LEVERING.)
34 VOTES FOR WOMEN
JEAN (smiling'). You know one another ?
Miss L. {looking at STONOR with intentness but
quite calmly}. Everybody in this part of the world
knows Mr. Stonor, but he doesn't know me.
LORD J. Miss Levering.
(They bow.}
(Enter GREATORBX, sidling in with an air of
giving MRS. FREDDY a wide berth.}
JEAN (to Miss LEVERING with artless enthusiasm}.
Oh, have you been hearing him speak ?
MlSS L. Yes, I was visiting some relations near
Dutfield. They took me to hear you.
STONOR. Oh — the night the Suffragettes made
their customary row.
MlSS L. The night they asked you
STONOR (flying at the first chance of distraction,
shakes hands with MRS. FREDDY). Well, Mrs. Freddy,
what do you think of your friends now ?
MRS. F. My friends ?
STONOR (offering her the Sunday paper}. Yes,
the disorderly women.
MRS. F. (with dignity}. They are not my friends,
but I don't think you must call them
STONOR. Why not ? (Laughs.} I can forgive
them for worrying the late Government. But they
are disorderly.
MlSS L. (quietly}. Isn't the phrase consecrated to a
different class ?
GREAT, (who has got hold of the Sunday paper}.
He's perfectly right. How do you do ? Disorderly
women ! That's what they are !
FARN. (reading over his shoulder}. Ought to be
locked up ! every one of 'em.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 35'
GREAT, (assenting angrily}. Public nuisances !
Going about with dog whips and spitting in police-
men's faces.
MRS. F. (with a harassed air}. I wonder if they
did spit ?
GREAT, (exulting}. Of course they did.
MRS. F. (turns on him). You're no authority on
what they do. You run away.
GREAT, (trying to turn the laugh}. Run away ?
Yes. (Backing a few paces.} And if ever I muster
up courage to come back, it will be to vote for better
manners in public life, not worse than we have
already.
MRS. F. (meekly}. So should I. Don't think that 1
defend the Suffragette methods.
JEAN, (with cheerful curiosity}. Still, you are an
advocate of the Suffrage, aren't you ?
MRS. F. Here? (Shrugs.} I don't beat the
air.
GREAT, (mocking}. Only policemen.
MRS. F. (plaintively}. If you cared to know the
attitude of the real workers in the reform, you might
have noticed in any paper last week we lost no time
in dissociating ourselves from the little group of
hysterical (Catches her husband's eye, and in-
stantly checks her flow of words.}
MRS. H. They have lowered the whole sex in the
eyes of the entire world.
JEAN (joining GEOFFREY STONOR). I can't quite
see what they want — those Suffragettes.
GREAT. Notoriety.
FARN. What they want ? A good thrashin' —
that's what I'd give 'em.
MlSS L. (murmurs}. Spirited fellow !
36 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LORD J. Well, there's one sure thing — they've
dished their goose.
(GREATOREX chuckles, still reading the account.}
I believe these silly scenes are a pure joy to you.
GREAT. Final death-blow to the whole silly
business !
JEAN (my stifled, looking from one to the other). The
Suffragettes don't seem to know they're dead.
GREAT. They still keep up a sort of death-rattle.
But they've done for themselves.
JEAN (clasping her hands with fervour}. Oh, I
hope they'll last till the election's over.
FARN. (stares). Why ?
JEAN. Oh, we want them to get the working man
to — (stumbling and a little confused) — to vote for . . .
the Conservative candidate. Isn't that so ?
(Looking round for help. General laughter.)
LORD J. Fancy, Jean !
GREAT. The working man's a good deal of an ass,
but even he won't listen to
JEAN (again appealing to the silent STONOR). But
he does listen like anything ! I asked why there were
so few at the Long Mitcham meeting, and I was told,
" Oh, they've all gone to hear Miss "
STONOR. Just for a lark, that was.
LORD J. It has no real effect on the vote.
GREAT. Not the smallest.
JEAN (wide-eyed, to STONOR). Why, I thought you
said
STONOR (hastily, rubbing his hand over the
lower part of his face and speaking quickly). I've
a notion a little soap and water wouldn't do me any
harm.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 37
LORD J. I'll take you up. You know Freddy
Tunbridge.
(STONOR pauses to shake hands. Exeunt all
three.)
JEAN (perplexed, as STONOR turns away, says to
GRBATOREX). Well, if women are of no importance
in politics, it isn't for the reason you gave. There is
now and then a week-ender among them.
GREAT, (shuffles about uneasily). Hm — Hm. (Finds
himself near MRS. FREDDY.) Lord ! The perils that
beset the feet of man !
(With an air of comic caution, moves away, L.)
JEAN (to FARNBOROUGH, aside, laughing). Why
does he behave like that ?
FARN. His moral sense is shocked.
JEAN. Why, I saw him and Mrs. Freddy together
at the French Play the other night — as thick as
thieves.
MlSS L. Ah, that was before he knew her revolt-
ing views.
JEAN. What revolting views ?
GREAT. Sh ! Sunday.
(-4s GREATOREX sidles cautiously further away.)
JEAN (laughing in spite of herself). I can't believe
women are so helpless when I see men so afraid of
them.
GREAT. The great mistake was in teaching them to
read and write.
JEAN (over Miss LEVERING'S shoulder, whispers).
Say something.
Miss L. (to GREATOREX, smiling). Oh no, that
wasn't the worst mistake.
GREAT. Yes, it was.
38 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS L. No. Believe me. The mistake was in
letting women learn to talk.
GREAT. Ah! (Wheels about with sudden rapture.)
I see now what's to be the next great reform.
MlSS L. (holding up the little volume). When
women are all dumb, no more discussions of the
" Paradise."
GREAT, (with a gesture of mock rapture). The
thing itself ! (Aside.) That's a great deal better than
talking about it, as I'm sure you know.
MlSS L. Why do you think I know ?
GREAT. Only the plain women are in any doubt.
(JEAN /oms Miss LEVERING.)
GREAT. Wait for me, Farnborough. I cannot go
about unprotected.
[Exeunt FARNBOROUGH and GREATOREX.
MRS. F. It's true what that old cynic says. The
scene in the House has put back the reform a genera-
tion.
JEAN. I wish 'd been there.
MRS. F. I was.
JEAN. Oh, was it like the papers said ?
MRS. F. Worse. I've never been so moved in
public. No tragedy, no great opera ever gripped an
audience as the situation in the House did that night.
There we all sat breathless — with everything more
favourable to us than it had been within the memory
of women. Another five minutes and the Resolution
would have passed. Then ... all in a moment
LADY JOHN (to MRS. HERIOT). Listen — they're
talking about the female hooligans.
MRS. H. No, thank you ! (Sits apart with the
"Church Times")
VOTES FOR WOMEN 39
MRS. F. (excitedly}. All in a moment a horrible
dingy little flag was poked through the grille of the
Woman's Gallery — cries — insults — scuffling — the
police — the ignominious turning out of the women —
us as well as the Oh, I can't think of it with-
out
(Jumps up and walks to and fro.}
(Pauses.} Then the next morning ! The people
gloating. Our friends antagonised — people who were
wavering — nearly won over — all thrown back — heart
breaking ! Even my husband ! Freddy's been an
angel about letting me take my share when I felt I
must — but of course I've always known he doesn't
really like it. It makes him shy. I'm sure it gives
him a horrid twist inside when he sees my name
among the speakers on the placards. But he's always
been an angel about it before this. After the disgrace-
ful scene he said, " It just shows how unfit women
are for any sort of coherent thinking or concerted
action."
JEAN. To think that it should be women who've
given the Cause the worst blow it ever had !
Mrs. F. The work of forty years destroyed in five
minutes !
JEAN. They must have felt pretty sick when they
woke up the next morning — the Suffragettes.
MRS. F. I don't waste any sympathy on them. I'm
thinking of the penalty all women have to pay because
a handful of hysterical
JEAN. Still I think I'm sorry for them. It must
be dreadful to find you've done such a lot of harm to
the thing you care most about in the world.
Miss L. Do you picture the Suffragettes sitting in
sackcloth ?
40 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MRS. F. Well, they can't help realising now what
they've done.
MlSS L. (quietly). Isn't it just possible they realise
they've waked up interest in the Woman Question so
that it's advertised in every paper and discussed in
every house from Land's End to John o'Groats ?
Don't you think they know there's been more said and
written about it in these ten days since the scene, than
in the ten years before it ?
MRS. F. You aren't saying you think it was a good
way to get what they wanted ?
MlSS L. (shrugs'). I'm only pointing out that it
seems not such a bad way to get it known they do
want something — and (smiling') " want it bad."
JEAN (getting up). Didn't Mr. Greatorex say women
had been politely petitioning Parliament for forty
years ?
MlSS L. And men have only laughed.
JEAN. But they'd come round. (She looks from
one to the other.) Mrs. Tunbridge says, before that
horrid scene, everything was favourable at last.
MlSS L. At last ? Hadn't it been just as " favour-
able " before ?
MRS. F. No. We'd never had so many members
pledged to our side.
MlSS L. I thought I'd heard somebody say the Bill
had got as far as that, time and time again.
JEAN. Oh no. Surely not
MRS. F. (reluctantly). Y-yes. This was only a
Resolution. The Bill passed a second reading thirty-
seven years ago.
JEAN (with wide eyes). And what difference did it
make ?
MlSS L. The men laughed rather louder.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 41
MKS. F. Oh, it's got as far as a second reading
several times — but we never had so many friends in
the House before
MlSS L. (with a faint smile). " Friends ! "
JEAN. Why do you say it like that ?
MlSS L. Perhaps because I was thinking of a
funny story — he said it was funny — a Liberal Whip
told me the other day. A Radical Member went out of
the House after his speech in favour of the Woman's
Bill, and as he came back half an hour later, he heard
some Members talking in the Lobby about the astonishing
number who were going to vote for the measure. And
the Friend of Woman dropped his jaw and clutched
the man next him : " My God ! " he said, " you don't
mean to say they're going to give it to them ! "
JEAN. Oh !
MBS. F. You don't think all men in Parliament are
like that !
MlSS L. I don't think all men are burglars, but I
lock my doors.
JEAN (below her breath}. You think that night of
the scene — you think the men didn't mean to play
fair?
Miss L. (her coolness in contrast to the excitement of
the others}. Didn't the women sit quiet till ten minutes
to closing time ?
JEAN. Ten minutes to settle a question like that !
MlSS L. (quietly to MRS. FREDDY). Couldn't you
see the men were at their old game ?
LADY J OHN (coming forward}. You think they were
just putting off the issue till it was too late ?
MlSS L. (in a detached tone). I wasn't there, but I
haven't heard anybody deny that the women waited
till ten minutes to eleven. Then they discovered the
42 VOTES FOR WOMEN
policeman who'd been sent up at the psychological
moment to the back of the gallery. Then, I'm told,
when the women saw they were betrayed once more, •
they utilised the few minutes left, to impress on the
country at large the fact of their demands — did it in
the only way left them.
(Sits leaning forward reflectively smiling, chin
in hand.)
It does rather look to the outsider as if the well-
behaved women had worked for forty years and made
less impression on the world then those fiery young
women made in five minutes.
MRS. F. Oh, come, be fair !
MlSS L. Well, you must admit that, next day,
every newspaper reader in Europe and America knew
there were women in England in such dead earnest
about the Suffrage that the men had stopped laughing
at last, and turned them out of the House. Men even
advertised how little they appreciated the fun by
sending the women to gaol in pretty sober earnest.
And all the world was talking about it.
(MRS. HERIOT lays down the " Church Times "
and joins the others.)
LADY JOHN. I have noticed, whenever the men
aren't there, the women sit and discuss that scene.
JEAN (cheerfully). 1 shan't have to wait till the
men are gone. (Leans over LADY JOHN'S shoulder
and says half aside) He's in sympathy.
LADY JOHN. How do you know ?
JEAN. He told the interrupting women so.
(MRS. FREDDY looks mystified. The others
smile.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 43
LADY JOHN. Oh !
(MR. FREDDY and LORD JOHN appear by the
door they went out of. They stop to talk.}
MRS. F. Here's Freddy ! (Lower, hastily to MlSS
LEVERING.) You're judging from the outside. Those
of us who have been working for years ... we all
realise it was a perfectly lunatic proceeding. Why,
think! The only chance of our getting what we want
is by winning over the men.
(Her watchful eye, leaving her husband for a
moment, catches Miss LEVERING'S little
involuntary gesture.}
What's the matter ?
MlSS L. " Winning over the men " has been the
woman's way for centuries. Do you think the result
should make us proud of our policy ? Yes ? Then
go and walk in Piccadilly at midnight.
(The older women glance at JEAN.)
No, I forgot
MRS. H. (with majesty}. Yes, it's not the first time
you've forgotten.
MlSS L. I forgot the magistrate's ruling. He said
no decent woman had any business to be in London's
main thoroughfare at night unless she has a man
with her. I heard that in Nine Elms, too. " You're
obliged to take up with a chap ! " was what the woman
said.
MRS. H. (rising}. JEAN ! Come !
(She takes JEAN by her arm and draws her to
the window, where she signals GREATOREX
and FARNBOROUGH. MRS. FREDDY joins
her husband and LORD JOHN.)
44 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LADY JOHN (kindly, aside to Miss LEVERING). My
dear, I think Lydia Heriot's right. We oughtn't to do
anything or say anything to encourage this ferment of
feminism, and I'll tell you why : it's likely to bring a
very terrible thing in its train.
MISS L. What terrible thing ?
LADY JOHN. Sex antagonism.
Miss L. (rising}. It's here.
LADY JOHN (very gravely). Don't say that.
(JEAN has quietly disengaged herself from MRS.
HERIOT, and the group at the window
returns and stands behind LADY JOHN,
looking up into Miss LEVERING'S face.}
Miss L. (to LADY JOHN). You're so conscious it's
here, you're afraid to have it mentioned.
LADY JOHN (turning and seeing JEAN. Rising
hastily). If it's here, it is the fault of those women
agitators.
MISS L. (gently). No woman begins that way.
(Leans forward with clasped hands looking into
vacancy.) Every woman's in a state of natural sub-
jection (smiles at JEAN) — no, I'd rather say allegiance
to her idea of romance and her hope of motherhood.
They're embodied for her in man. They're the
strongest things in life — till man kills them.
(Rousing herself and looking into LADY JOHN'S
face.)
Let's be fair. Each woman knows why that allegiance
died.
(LADY JOHN turns hastily, sees LORD JOHN com-
ing down with MR. FREDDY and meets ttiem
at the foot of the stairs. Miss LEVERING
VOTES FOR WOMEN 45
has turned to the table looking for her
gloves, dec., among the papers ; unconsciously
drops the handkerchief she had in her little
JEAN (in a low voice to Miss LEVERING). All this
talk against the wicked Suffragettes — it makes me want
to go and hear what they've got to say for themselves.
Miss L. (smiling with a non-committal air as she
finds the veil she's been searching for). Well, they're
holding a meeting in Trafalgar Square at three o'clock.
JEAN. This afternoon ? But that's no use to
people out of town - Unless I could invent some
excuse . . .
LORD J. (benevolently). Still talking over the
Shelter plans ?
MlSS L. No. We left the Shelter some time ago.
LORD J. (to JEAN). Then what's all the chatter-
ment about ?
(JEAN, a little confused, looks at Miss LEVERING.)
MlSS L. The latest thing in veils. (Ties hers round
her hat.)
GREAT. The invincible frivolity of woman !
LORD J. (genially). Don't scold them. It's a very
proper topic.
Miss L. (tvhimsically). Oh, I was afraid you'd
despise us for it.
BOTH MEN (with condescension). Not at all — not
at all.
JEAN (to Miss SEVERING as FOOTMAN appears).
Oh, they're coming for you. Don't forget your book.
(FOOTMAN holds out a salver with a telegram
on it for JEAN.)
Why, it's for me !
46 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MiSS L. But it's time I was
(Crosses to table.)
JEAN (opening the telegram). May I ? (Reads, and
glances over the paper at Miss LEVERING.) I've
got your book. (Crosses to Miss LEVERING, and,
looking at the back of the volume} Dante ! Where-
abouts are you ? (Opening at the marker.) Oh, the
" Inferno."
MiSS L. No ; I'm in a worse place.
JEAN. I didn't know there was a worse.
MiSS L. Yes ; it's worse with the Vigliacchi.
JEAN. I forget. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline ?
MiSS L. (smiling). They weren't either, and that was
why Dante couldn't stand them. (More gravely.) He
.said there was no place in Heaven nor in Purgatory —
not even a corner in Hell — for the souls who had stood
aloof from strife, (Looking steadily into the girl's
eyes.) He called them " wretches who never lived,"
Dante did, because they'd never felt the pangs
of partizanship. And so they wander homeless on
the skirts of limbo among the abortions and off-
scourings of Creation.
JEAN (a long breath after a long look. When
Miss LEVERING has turned away to make her
leisurely adieux JEAN'S eyes fall on the open tele-
gram). Aunt Ellen, I've got to go to London.
(STONOR, re-entering, hears this, but pretends
to talk to MR. FREDDY, <&c.)
LADY JOHN. My dear child !
MRS. H. Nonsense ! Is your grandfather worse ?
JEAN (folding the telegram). No-o. I don't think
so. But it's necessary I should go, all the same.
MRS. H. Go away when Mr. Stonor
VOTES FOR WOMEN 47
JEAN. He said he'd have to leave directly after
luncheon.
LADY JOHN. I'll just see Miss Levering off, and
then I'll come back and talk about it.
LORD J. (to Miss LEVERING). Why are you saying
goodbye as if you were never coming back ?
MlSS L. (smiling}. One never knows. Maybe I
shan't come back. (To STONOR.) Goodbye.
(STONOR bows ceremoniously. The others go
up laughing. STONOR comes down.}
JEAN (impulsively}. There mayn't be another
train ! Miss Levering
STONOR (standing in front of her}. What if
there isn't ? I'll take you back in the motor.
JEAN (rapturously}. Will yon ? (Inadvertently
drops the telegram.} I must be there by three !
STONOR (picks up the telegram and a handkerchief
lying near, glances at the message}. Why, it's only an
invitation to dine — Wednesday !
JEAN. Sh ! (Takes the telegram and puts it in her
pocket.)
STONOR. Oh, I see ! (Lower, smiling.} It's
rather dear of you to arrange our going off like that.
You are a clever little girl !
JEAN. It's not that I was arranging. I want to
hear those women in Trafalgar Square — the Suf-
fragettes.
STONOR (incredulous, but smiling}. How per-
fectly absurd ! (Looking after LADY JOHN.) Besides,
I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like
that.
JEAN. Then she'll have to make an excuse and
come too.
48 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOR. Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same
JEAN (rapidly thinking it out). "We could get back
here in time for dinner.
(GEOFFREY STONOR glances down at the hand-
kerchief still in his hand, and turns it
half mechanically from corner to corner.)
JEAN (absent-mindedly}. Mine ?
STONOR (hastily, without reflection). No. (Hands
it to Miss LEVERING as she passes.) Yours.
(Miss LEVERING, on her way to the lobby with
LORD JOHN seems not to notice.)
JEAN (takes the handkerchief to give to her, glancing
down at the embroidered corner ; stops'). But that's not
an L ! It's Vi !
(GEOFFREY STONOR suddenly turns his back
and takes up the newspaper.)
LADY JOHN (from the lobby). Come, Vida, since
you will go.
Miss L. Yes ; I'm coming.
\Exit Miss LEVERING.
JEAN. / didn't know her name was Vida ; how
did you ?
(STONOR stares silently over the top of his
paper.)
CURTAIN.
ACT II
SCENE : The north side of the Nelson Column in Tra-
falgar Square. The Curtain rises on an uproar.
The crowd, which momentarily increases, is com-
posed chiefly of weedy youths and wastrel old men.
There are a few decent artisans ; three or four
" beery " out-o1 -works ; three or four young women
of the domestic servant or Strand restaurant
cashier class; one aged woman in rusty black
peering with faded, wondering eyes, consulting
the faces of the men and laughing nervously and
apologetically from time to time ; one or two quiet-
looking, business-like women, thirty to forty ; two
middle-class men, who stare and whisper and
smile. A quiet old man with a lot of unsold
Sunday papers under one arm stands in an atti-
tude of rapt attention, with the free hand round
his deaf ear. A brisk-looking woman of forty-five
or so, wearing pince-nez, goes round with a pile of
propagandist literature on her arm. Many of the
men smoking cigarettes — the old ones pipes. On
the outskirts of this crowd, of several hundred, a
couple of smart men in tall shining hats hover a
few moments, single eyeglass up, and then saunter
qff. Against the middle of the Column, where it
rises above the stone platform, is a great red
banner, one supporting pole upheld by a grimy
E 49
50 VOTES FOR WOMEN
sandwichman, the other by a small, dirty boy of
eight. If practicable only the lower portion of the
banner need be seen, bearing the final words of the
legend —
"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"
in immense white letters. It will be well to get, to the
full) the effect of the height above the crowd of the
straggling group of speakers on the pedestal plat-
form. These are, as the Curtain rises, a working-
class woman who is waving her arms and talking
very earnestly, her voice for the moment blurred
in the uproar. She is dressed in brown serge and
looks pinched and sallow. At her side is the
CHAIEMAN urging that she be given a fair hear-
ing. ALLEN TRENT is a tall, slim, brown-haired
man of twenty-eight, with a slight stoop, an agree-
able aspect, well-bred voice, and the gleaming brown
eye of the visionary. Behind these two, looking on
or talking among themselves, are several other
carelessly dressed women ; one, better turned out
than the rest, is quite young, very slight and
gracefully built, with round, very pink cheeks,
full, scarlet lips, naturally waving brown hair,
and an air of childish gravity. She looks at the
unruly mob with imperturbable calm. The
CHAIRMAN'S voice is drowned.}
WORKING WOMAN (with lean, brown finger out
and voice raised shriller now above the tumult). I've
got boys o' me own and we laugh at all sorts o' things,
but I should be ashymed and so would they if ever
they was to be'yve as you're doin' to-d'y.
(In laughter the noise dies.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 51
People 'ave been sayin' this is a middle-class woman's
movement. It's a libel. I'm a workin' woman myself,
the wife of a working man. ( Voice : " Pore devil ! ")
I'm a Poor Law Guardian and a
NOISY YOUNG MAN. Think of that, now— gracious
me !
(Laughter and interruption.')
OLD NEWSVENDOR (to the noisy young man near
him). Oh, shut up, cawn't yer ?
NOISY YOUNG MAN. Not fur you !
VOICE. Go 'ome and darn yer old man's stockens !
VOICE. Just clean yer own doorstep !
WORKING WOMAN. It's a pore sort of 'ousekeeper
that leaves 'er doorstep till Sunday afternoon. Maybe
that's when you would do your doorstep. I do mine
in the mornin' before you men are awake.
OLD NEWSVENDOR. It's true, wot she says ! — every
word.
WORKING WOMAN. You say we women 'ave got no
business servin' on boards and thinkin' about politics.
Wot's politics ?
(A derisive roar.)
It's just 'ousekeepin' on a big scyle. 'Oo among you
workin' men 'as the most comfortable 'omes ? Those
of you that gives yer wives yer wyges.
(Loud laughter and jeers.)
(That's it !
VOICES, j Wantin' our money.
(Lord 'Igh 'Ousekeeper of England.
WORKING WOMAN. If it wus only to use fur
our comfort, d'ye think many o' you workin' men
would be found turnin' over their wyges to their
52 VOTES FOR WOMEN
wives ? No ! Wot's the reason thousands do — and
the best and the soberest ? Because the workin' man
knows that wot's a pound to 'im is twenty shillin's to
'is wife. And she'll myke every penny in every one
o' them shillin's tell. She gets more fur 'im out of 'is
wyges than wot 'e can ! Some o' you know wot the
'omes is like w'ere the men don't let the women
manage. Well, the Poor Laws and the 'ole Govern-
ment is just in the syme muddle because the men 'ave
tried to do the national 'ousekeepin' without the
women.
(Roars.}
But, like I told you before, it's a libel to say it's
only the well-off women wot's wantin' the vote.
Wot about the 96,000 textile workers ? Wot about
the Yorkshire tailoresses ? I can tell you wot plenty
o' the poor women think about it. I'm one of
them, and I can tell you we see there's reforms
needed. We ought to 'ave the vote (jeers}, and we
know 'ow to appreciate the other women 'oo go
to prison fur tryin' to get it fur us!
(With a little final lob of emphasis and a glance
over shoulder at the old woman and the
young one behind her, she seems about to
retire, but pauses as the murmur in the
crowd grows into distinct phrases. " They
get their 'air cut free." " Naow they don't,
that's only us!" "Silly Suffragettes!"
" Stop at 'ome ! " " 'Inderin' policemen —
mykin' rows in the streets ! ")
VOICE (louder than the others}. They see»s yer ain't
fit t'ave
VOTES FOR WOMEN 53
OTHER VOICES. " Ha, ha ! " " Shut up ! " " Keep
quiet, cawn't yer ? " (General uproar.}
CHAIRMAN. You evidently don't know what had
to be done by men before the extension of the Suffrage
in '67. If it hadn't been for demonstrations of
violence
(His voice is drowned.)
WORKING WOMAN (coming forward again, her
shrill note rising clear). You s'y woman's plyce is
'ome ! Don't you know there's a third of the women
o' this country can't afford the luxury of stayin' in
their 'omes ? They got to go out and 'elp make money
to p'y the rent and keep the 'ome from bein' sold
up. Then there's all the women that 'aven't got even
miseerable 'omes. They 'aven't got any 'omes at all.
NOISY YOUNG MAN. You said you got one. W'y
don't you stop in it ?
WORKING WOMAN. Yes, that's like a man. If one
o' you is all right, he thinks the rest don't matter. We
women
NOISY YOUNG MAN. The lydies ! God bless 'em !
( Voices drown her and the CHAIRMAN.)
OLD NEWSVENDOR (to NOISY YOUNG MAN). Oh,
take that extra 'alf pint 'ome and sleep it off!
WORKING WOMAN. P'r'aps your 'omes are all
right. P'r'aps you aren't livin', old and young, married
and single, in one room. I come from a plyce where
many fam'lies 'ave to live like that if they're to go on
livin' at all. If you don't believe me, come and let me
show you f (She spreads out her lean arms.) Come
with me to Canning Town ! — come with me to Bromley
—come to Poplar and to Bow ! No. You won't even
think about the overworked women and the underfed
54 VOTES FOR WOMEN
children and the 'ovels they live in. And you want
that we shouldn't think neither
A VAGRANT. We'll do the thinkin'. You go 'ome
and nuss the byby.
WORKING WOMAN. I do nurse my byby ! I've
nursed seven. What 'ave you done for yours ? P'r'aps
your children never goes 'ungry, and maybe you're
satisfied — though I must say I wouldn't a' thought it
from the look o' you.
VOICE. Oh, I s'y !
WORKING WOMAN. But we women are not satisfied.
We don't only want better things for our own children.
We want better things for all. Every child is our
child. We know in our 'earts we oughtn't to rest till
we've mothered 'em every one.
VOICE. "Women" — "children" — wot about the
men ? Are they all 'appy ?
(Derisive laughter and " No ! no ! " " Not
precisely." " 'Appy ? Lord ! ")
WORKING WOMAN. No, there's lots o' you men I'm
sorry for (Shrill Voice : " Thanks awfully ! "), an' we'll
'elp you if you let us.
VOICE. 'Elp us ? You tyke the bread out of our
mouths. You women are black-leggin' the men !
WORKING WOMAN. Wy does any woman tyke less
wyges than a man for the same work ? Only because
we can't get anything better. That's part the reason
w'y we're yere to-d'y. Do you reely think we tyke
them there low wyges because we got a lykiri1 for low
wyges ? No. We're just like you. We want as much
as ever we can get. (" 'Ear ! 'Ear ! " and laughter.} We
got a gryte deal to do with our wyges, we women has.
We got the children to think about. And w'en we get
VOTES FOR WOMEN 55
our rights, a woman's flesh and blood won't be so much
cheaper than a man's that employers can get rich on
keepin' you out o' work, and sweatin' us. If you men
only could see it, we got the syme cause, and if you
'elped us you'd be 'elpin yerselves.
VOICES. " Rot ! " " Drivel."
OLD NEWSVENDOR. True as gospel !
(She retires against the banner with the others.
There is some applause.}
A MAN (patronisingly}. Well, now, that wusn't
so bad — fur a woman.
ANOTHER. N-naw. Not fur a woman.
CHAIRMAN (speaking through this last}. Miss
Ernestine Blunt will now address you.
(Applause, chieHy ironic, laughter, a general
moving closer and knitting up of attention.
ERNESTINE BLUNT is about twenty-four,
but looks younger. She is very downright,
not to say pugnacious — the something amus-
ing and attractive about her is there, as it
were, against her will, and the more fetch-
ing for that. She has no conventional
gestures, and none of any sort at first. As
she warms to her work she uses her slim
hands to enforce her emphasis, but as
though unconsciously. Her manner of
speech is less monotonous than that of the
average woman-speaker, but she, too, has
a fashion of leaning all her weight on the
end of the sentence. She brings out the final
word or two with an effort of underscoring,
and makes a forward motion of the slim
body as if the better to drive the last nail in.
56 VOTES FOR WOMEN
She evidently means to be immensely prac-
tical— the kind who is pleased to think she
hasn't a grain of sentimentality in her
composition) and whose feeling, when it
does all but master her, communicates
itself magnetically to others.)
Miss ERNESTINE BLUNT. Perhaps I'd better begin
by explaining a little about our " tactics."
(Cries of " Tactics ! We know ! " " Mykin'
trouble ! " " Public scandal ! ")
To make you understand what we've done, I must
remind you of what others have done. Perhaps you
don't know that women first petitioned Parliament
for the Franchise as long ago as 1866.
VOICE. How do you know ?
(She pauses a moment, taken off her guard by
the suddenness of the attack.)
VOICE. You wasn't there !
VOICE. That was the trouble. Haw ! haw !
MlSS E. B. And the petition was presented
VOICE. Give 'er a 'earin' now she 'as got out of 'er
cry die.
MlSS E. B. — presented to the House of Commons by
that great Liberal, John Stuart Mill. ( Voice : " Mill ?
Who is he when he's at home ? " ) Bills or Resolutions
have been before the House on and off for the last
thirty-six years. That, roughly, is our history. We
found ourselves, towards the close of the year 1905,
with no assurance that if we went on in the same way
any girl born into the world in this generation would
live to exercise the rights of citizenship, though she
lived to be a hundred. So we said all this has been in
VOTES FOR WOMEN 57
vain. We must try some other way. How did the
working man get the Suffrage, we asked ourselves ?
Well, we turned up the records, and we saw
VOICES. " Not by scratching people's faces ! " . . .
" Disraeli give it 'em ! " " Dizzy ? Get out ! "
" Cahnty Cahncil scholarships ! " " Oh, Lord, this
education ! " " Chartist riots, she's thinkin' of ! "
(Noise in the crowd.}
MiSS E. B. But we don't want to follow such a
violent example. We would much rather not — but if
that's the only way we can make the country see
we're in earnest, we are prepared to show them.
VOICE. An' they'll show you ! — Give you another
month 'ard.
MISS E. B. Don't think that going to prison has
any fears for us. We'd go for life if by doing that we
could get freedom for the rest of the women.
VOICES. " Hear, hear ! " " Rot 1 " " W'y don't
the men 'elp ye to get your rights ? "
MISS E. B. Here's some one asking why the men
don't help. It's partly they don't understand yet —
they will before we've done ! (Laughter.') Partly
they don't understand yet what's at stake
RESPECTABLE OLD MAN (chuckling}. Lord, they're
a 'educatin' of us !
VOICE. Wot next ?
Miss E. B. — and partly that the bravest man is
afraid of ridicule. Oh, yes ; we've heard a great deal
all our lives about the timidity and the sensitiveness
of women. And it's true. We are sensitive. But A
I tell you, ridicule crumples a man up. It steels a -
woman. We've come to know the value of ridicule. ' \
We've educated ourselves so that we welcome ridicule.
We owe our sincerest thanks to the comic writers.
58 VOTES FOR WOMEN
The cartoonist is our unconscious friend. Who car-
toons people who are of no importance ? What
advertisement is so sure of being remembered ?
POETIC YOUNG MAN. I admit that.
MlSS E. B. If we didn't know it by any other sign,
the comic papers would tell us we've arrived! But
our greatest debt of gratitude we owe, to the man who
called us female hooligans.
(The crowd bursts into laughter.}
We aren't hooligans, but we hope the fact will be over-
looked. If everybody said we were nice, well-behaved
women, who'd come to hear us ? Not the men.
(Roars.)
Men tell us it isn't womanly for us to care about poli-
tics. How do they know what's womanly ? It's for
women to decide that. Let the men attend to being
manly. It will take them all their time.
VOICE. Are we down-'earted ? Oh no !
MlSS E. B. And they say it would be dreadful if
we got the vote, because then we'd be pitted against
men in the economic struggle. But that's come about
already. Do you know that out of every hundred
women in this country eighty-two are wage-earning
women ? It used to be thought unfeminine for women
to be students and to aspire to the arts — that bring
fame and fortune. But nobody has ever said it was
unfeminine for women to do the heavy drudgery
that's badly paid. That kind of work had to be done
by somebody — and the men didn't hanker after it.
Oh, no.
(Laughter and interruption.)
A MAN ON THE OUTER FRINGE. She can talk —
the little one can.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 59
ANOTHER. Oh, they can all " talk."
A BEERY, DIRTY FELLOW OP FIFTY. I wouldn't
like to be 'er 'usban'. Think o' comin' 'ome to
that !
HIS PAL. I'd soon learn 'er !
MiSS E. B. (speaking through the noise). Oh, no !
Let the women scrub and cook and wash. That's all
right ! But if they want to try their hand at the
better paid work of the liberal professions — oh, very
unfeminine indeed ! Then there's another thing.
Now I want you to listen to this, because it's very
important. Men say if we persist in competing with
them for the bigger prizes, they're dreadfully afraid
we'd lose the beautiful protecting chivalry that —
Yes, I don't wonder you laugh. We laugh. (Bending
forward with lit eyes.} But the women I found at
the Ferry Tin "Works working for five shillings a week
— I didn't see them laughing. The beautiful chivalry
of the employers of women doesn't prevent them from
paying women tenpence a day for sorting coal and
loading and unloading carts — doesn't prevent them
from forcing women to earn bread in ways worse
still. So we won't talk about chivalry. It's being
over-sarcastic. We'll just let this poor ghost of
chivalry go — in exchange for a little plain justice.
VOICE. If the House of Commons won't give you
justice, why don't you go to the House of Lords ?
MiSS E. B. What ?
VOICE. Better 'urry up. Case of early closin'.
(Laughter. A man at the lack asks the speaker
something.}
MiSS E. B. (unable to hear). You'll be allowed to
ask any question you like at the end of the meeting.
60 VOTES FOR WOMEN
NEW-COMER (boy of eighteen). Oh, is it question
time ? I s'y, Miss, 'oo killed cock robin ?
(She is about to resume, but above the general
noise the voice of a man at the back reaches
her indistinct but insistent. She leans for-
ward trying to catch what he says. While
the indistinguishable murmur has been
going on GEOFFREY STONOR has appeared
on the edge of the crowd, followed by JEAN
and LADY JOHN in motor veils.}
JEAN (pressing for war d\ eagerly and raising her
veil). Is she one of them ? That little thing !
STONOR (doubtfully). I — I suppose so.
JEAN. Oh, ask some one, Geoffrey. I'm so disap-
pointed. I did so hope we'd hear one of the — the
worst.
MlSS E. B. (to the interrupter — on the other side).
What ? What do you say ? (She screws up her eyes
with the effort to hear, and puts a hand up to her
ear. A few indistinguishable words between her and
the man.)
LADY JOHN (who has been studying the figures on
the platform through her lorgnon, turns to a working
man beside her). Can you tell me, my man, which
are the ones that — a — that make the disturbances ?
WORKING MAN. The one that's doing the talking
— she's the disturbingest o' the lot.
JEAN (craning to listen). Not that nice little
WORKING MAN. Don't you be took in, Miss.
MlSS E. B. Oh, yes — I see. There's a man over
here asking
A YOUNG MAN. Tve got a question, too. Are —
you — married ?
VOTES FOR WOMEN 61
ANOTHER (sniggering). Quick ! There's yer
chawnce. 'E's a bachelor.
{Laughter.}
Miss E. B. (goes straight on as if she had not heard)
— man asking : if the women get full citizenship, and
a war is declared, will the women fight ?
POETIC YOUNG MAN. No, really— no, really,
now !
(The Crowd : " Haw ! Haw ! " " Yes I " " Yes,
how about that ? ")
MlSS E. B. (smiling). Well, you know, some people
say the whole trouble about us is that we do fight.
But it is only hard necessity makes us do that. We
don't want to fight — as men seem to — just for fighting's
sake. Women are for peace.
VOICE. Hear, hear.
MlSS E. B. And when we have a share in public
affairs there'll be less likelihood of war. But that's
not to say women can't fight. The Boer women did.
The Russian women face conflicts worse than any
battlefield can show. (Her voice shakes a little, and
the eyes fill, but she controls her emotion gallantly, and
dashes on.) But we women know all that is evil, and
we're for peace. Our part — we're proud to remember
it — our part has been to go about after you men in
war-time, and — -pick up the pieces !
(A great shout.}
Yes — seems funny, doesn't it ? You men blow them
to bits, and then we come along and put them together
again. If you know anything about military nursing,
you know a good deal of our work has been done in
the face of danger — but it's always been done.
62 VOTES FOR WOMEN
OLD NEWSVENDOR. That's so. That's so.
MlSS E. B. You complain that more and more
we're taking away from you men the work that's
always been yours. You can't any longer keep women
out of the industries. The only question is upon what
terms shall she continue to be in ? As long as she's in
on bad terms, she's not only hurting herself — she's
hurting you. But if you're feeling discouraged about
our competing with you, we're willing to leave you
ryour trade in war. Let the men take life ! We give
life ! {Her voice is once more moved and proud.} No
one will pretend ours isn't one of the dangerous trades
either. I won't say any more to you now, because
we've got others to speak to you, and a new woman-
helper that I want you to hear.
(She retires to the sound of clapping. There's a
hurried consultation between her and the
CHAIRMAN. Voices in the Crowd : " The
little 'un's all right " " Ernestine's a
corker," &c.)
JEAN (looking at STONOR to see how he's taken
it). Well ?
STONOR (smiling down at her). Well
JEAN. Nothing reprehensible in what she said, was
there ?
STONOR (shrugs). Oh, reprehensible !
JEAN. It makes me rather miserable all the same.
STONOR (draws her hand protectingly through his
arm). You mustn't take it as much to heart as all
that.
JEAN. I can't help it — I can't indeed, Geoffrey. I
shall never be able to make a speech like that !
STONOR (taken aback). I hope not, indeed.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 63
JEAN. Why, I thought you said you wanted
me ?
STONOR (smiling}. To make nice little speeches
with composure — so I did ! So I (Seems to lose
his thread as he looks at her.}
JEAN (with a little frown). You said
STONOR. That you have very pink cheeks ? Well,
I stick to that.
JEAN (smiling}. Sh ! Don't tell everybody.
STONOR. And you're the only female creature I
ever saw who didn't look a fright in motor things.
JEAN (melted and smiling}. I'm glad you don't
think me a fright.
CHAIRMAN. I will now ask (name indistinguish-
able} to address the meeting.
JEAN (as she sees LADY JOHN moving to one side}.
Oh, don't go yet, Aunt Ellen !
LADY JOHN. Go ? Certainly not. I want to hear
another. (Craning her neck.} I can't believe, you
know, she was really one of the worst.
(A big, sallow Cockney has come forward. His
scanty hair grows in wisps on a great bony
skull.)
VOICE. That's Pilcher.
ANOTHER. 'Oo's Pilcher ?
ANOTHER. If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho,
w'y don't you get yer 'air cut.
MR. P. (not in the least discomposed). I've been
addressin' a big meetin' at 'Ammersmith this morning,
and w'en I told 'em I wus comin' 'ere this awfternoon
to speak fur the women — well — then the usual thing
began I
(An appreciative roar from the crowd.)
64 VOTES FOR WOMEN
In these times if you want peace and quiet at a public
meetin'
(TJie crowd fills in the hiatus with laughter.}
There was a man at 'Ammersmith, too, talkin' about
women's sphere bein' 'ome. 'Ome do you call it ?
You've got a kennel w'ere you can munch your tommy.
You've got a corner w'ere you can curl up fur a few
hours till you go out to work again. No, my man,
there's too many of you ain't able to give the women
'omes — fit to live in, too many of you in that fix fur
you to go on jawin' at those o' the women 'oo want to
myke the 'omes a little decenter.
VOICE. If the vote ain't done us any good, 'ow'll it
do the women any good ?
MR. P. Look 'ere ! Any men here belongin' to the
Labour Party ?
{Shouts and applause.)
Well, I don't need to tell these men the vote 'as done
us some good. They know it. And it'll do us a lot
more good w'en you know 'ow to use the power you
got in your 'and.
VOICE. Power ! It's those fellers at the bottom o'
the street that's got the power.
MB. P. It's you, and men like you, that gave it to
'em. You carried the Liberals into Parliament Street
on your own shoulders.
(Complacent applause.)
You believed all their fine words. You never asked
yourselves, " Wot's a Liberal, anyw'y ? "
A VOICE. He's a jolly good fellow.
(Cheers and booing.')
VOTES FOR WOMEN 65
ME. P. No, 'e ain't, or if 'e is jolly, it's only because
'e thinks you're such silly codfish you'll go swellin' his
majority again. {Laughter ', in which STONOR joins.)
It's enough to make any Liberal jolly to see sheep like
you lookin' on, proud and 'appy, while you see Liberal
leaders desertin' Liberal principles.
( Voices in agreement and protest.")
You show me a Liberal, and I'll show you a Mr.
Fycing-both-W'ys. Yuss.
(STONOR moves closer with an amused look.)
'E sheds the light of 'is warm and 'andsome smile on
the working man, and round on the other side 'e's
tippin' a wink to the great land-owners. That's to let
'em know 'e's standin' between them and the Socialists.
Huh ! Socialists. Yuss, Socialists !
(General laughter, in which STONOR joins.}
The Liberal, e's the judicial sort o' chap that sits in the
middle
VOICE. On the fence !
MR. P. Tories one side — Socialists the other. Well
it ain't always so comfortable in the middle. You're
like to get squeezed. Now, I s'y to the women, the
Conservatives don't promise you much but what they
promise they do I
STONOR (to JEAN). This fellow isn't half bad.
MR. P. The Liberals — they'll promise you the
earth, and give yer . . . the whole o' nothing.
(Roars of approval.)
JEAN. Isn't it fun ? Now, aren't you glad I brought
you?
STONOR (laughing). This chap's rather amusing !
66 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MB. P. We men 'ave seen it 'appen over and over.
But the women can tyke a 'int quicker'n what we can.
They won't Btand the nonsense men do. Only they
'aven't got a fair chawnce even to agitate fur their
rights. As I wus comin' up 'ere I 'eard a man sayin',
" Look at this big crowd. W'y, we're all men ! If the
women want the vote w'y ain't they 'ere to s'y so ? "
Well, I'll tell you w'y. It's because they've 'ad to get
the dinner fur you and me, and now they're washin'
up the dishes.
A VOICE. D'you think we ought to st'y 'ome and
wash the dishes ?
MR. P. (laughs good-naturedly). If they'd leave it
to us once or twice per'aps we'd understand a little
more about the Woman Question. I know w'y my
wife isn't here. It's because she knows I ain't much
use round the 'ouse, and she's 'opin' I can talk to some
purpose. Maybe she's mistaken. Any'ow, here I am
to vote for her and all the other women.
(" Hear ! hear ! " "Oh-h!")
And to tell you men what improvements you can ex-
pect to see when women 'as the share in public affairs
they ought to 'ave !
VOICE. What do you know about it ? You can't
even talk grammar.
MR. P. (is dashed a fraction of a moment, for the
first and only time}. I'm not 'ere to talk grammar
but to talk Reform. I ain't defendin' my grammar —
but I'll say in pawssing that if my mother 'ad 'ad 'er
rights, maybe my grammar would have been better.
(STONOR and JEAN exchange smiles. He takes
her arm again and bends his head to
whisper something in her ear. She listens
VOTES FOR WOMEN 67
with lowered eyes and happy face. The
discreet love-making goes on during the
next few sentences. Interruption. One
voice insistent but not clear. The speaker
waits only a second and then resumes.
"Fes, if the women" but he cannot in-
stantly make himself heard. The boyish
CHAIRMAN looks harassed and anxious.
Miss ERNESTINE BLUNT alert, watchful.}
MR. P. Wait a bit — 'arf a minute, imy man !
VOICE. 'Oo yer talkin' to ? I ain't your man.
MR. P. Lucky for me ! There seems to be a
gentleman 'ere who doesn't think women ought to
'ave the vote.
VOICE. One? Oh-h !
{Laughter.)
MR. P. Per'aps 'e doesn't iknow much about
women ?
(Indistinguishable repartee.)
Oh, the gentleman says Vs married. Well, then, fur
the syke of 'is wife we musn't be too sorry Vs 'ere.
No doubt she's s'ying : " 'Eaven by prysed those
women are mykin' a Demonstrytion in Trafalgar
Square, and I'll 'ave a little peace and quiet at 'ome
for one Sunday in my life."
(The crowd laughs and there are jeers for the
interrupter — and at the speaker.)
(Pointing.) Why, you're like the man at 'Ammersmith
this morning. 'E was awskin' me : " 'Ow would you
like men to st'y at 'ome and do the fam'ly washin' ? "
(Laughter.)
68 VOTES FOR WOMEN
I told 'im I wouldn't advise it. I 'ave too much
respect fur — me clo'es.
VAGRANT. It's their place — the women ought to do
the washin'.
MR. P. I'm not sure you ain't right. For a good
many o' you fellas, from the look o' you — you cawn't
even wash yerselves.
(Laughter.)
VOICE (threatening). 'Oo are you talkin' to ?
(Chairman more anxious than before — move-
ment in the crowd.)
THREATENING VOICE. Which of us d'you mean ?
MR. P. (coolly looking down.) Well, it takes about
ten of your sort to myke a man, so you may take it I
mean the lot of you.
(Angry indistinguishable retorts and the crowd
sways. Miss ERNESTINE BLUNT, who has
been watching the fray with serious face,
turns suddenly, catching sight of some one
just arrived at the end of the platform.
Miss BLUNT goes R. with alacrity,
saying audibly to PILCHER as she passes,
"Here she is" and proceeds to offer her
hand helping some one to get up the im-
provised steps. Laughter and interruption
in the crowd.)
LADY JOHN. Now, there's another woman going to
speak.
JEAN. Oh, is she ? Who ? Which ? I do hope
she'll be one of the wild ones.
MR. P. (speaking through this last. Glancing at
the new arrival whose hat appears above the platform
VOTES FOR WOMEN 69
B.). That's all right, then. (Turns to the left.) When
I've attended to this microbe that's vitiating the air on
my right
{Laughter and interruptions from the crowd.)
STONOR (staring R., one dazed instant, at the face
of the new arrival, his own changes).
(JEAN withdraws her arm from his and quite
suddenly presses a shade nearer the plat-
form. STONOR moves forward and takes
her by the arm.)
We're going now.
JEAN. Not yet — oh, please not yet. (Breathless,
looking back.) Why I — I do believe
STONOR (to LADY JOHN, with decision). I'm going
to take JEAN out of this mob. Will you come ?
LADY JOHN. What ? Oh yes, if you think
(Another look through her glasses.) But isn't that
— surely its ! ! !
(ViDA LEVERING comes forward R. She
wears a long, plain, dark green dust-
cloak. Stands talking to ERNESTINE BLUNT
and glancing a little apprehensively at the
crowd.)
JEAN. Geoffrey I
STONOR (trying to draw JEAN away). Lady John's
tired
JEAN. But you don't see who it is, Geoffrey !
(Looks into his face, and is arrested by the look she
finds there.)
(LADY JOHN has pushed in front of them
amazed, transfixed, with glass up. GEOF-
FREY STONOR restrains a gesture of annoy-
70 VOTES FOR WOMEN
ance, and withdraws behind two big police-
men. JEAN from time to time turns to look
at him with a face of perplexity.)
MR. P. (resuming through a fire of indistinct in-
terruption}. I'll come down and attend to that microbe
while a lady will say a few words to you (raises his
voice) — if she can myke 'erself 'eard.
(PiLCHBR retires in the midst of booing and cheers.}
CHAIRMAN (harassed and trying to create a diver-
sion). Some one suggests — and it's such a good idea
I'd like you to listen to it —
(Noise dies down.)
that a clause shall be inserted in the next Suf-
frage Bill that shall expressly reserve to each Cabinet
Minister, and to any respectable man, the power to
prevent the Franchise being given to the female
members of his family on his public declaration of
their lack of sufficient intelligence to entitle them
to vote.
VOICES. Oh! oh!
CHAIRMAN. Now, I ask you to listen, as quietly as
you can, to a lady who is not accustomed to speaking —
a — in Trafalgar Square — or a ... as a matter of fact,
at all.
VOICES. " A dumb lady." " Hooray ! " " Three
cheers for the dumb lady ! "
CHAIRMAN. A lady who, as I've said, will tell you,
if you'll behave yourselves, her impressions of the
administration of police-court justice in this country.
(JEAN looks wondering at STONOR'S sphinx-like
face as VIDA LEVERING comes to the edge of
the platform.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 71
MlSS L. Mr. Chairman, men and women
VOICES (off}. Speak up.
(She flushes, comes quite to the edge of the
platform and raises fier voice a little.')
MlSS L. I just wanted to tell you that I was —
I was — present in the police-court when the women
were charged for creating a disturbance.
VOICE. Y' oughtn't t' get mixed up in wot didn't
concern you.
Miss L. I — I (Stumbles and stops.)
(Talking and laughing increases. "Wot's 'er
name ? " " Mrs. or Miss ? " " Ain't seen
this one before.")
CHAIRMAN (anxiously). Now, see here, men ; don't
interrupt
A GlRL (shrilly). I like this one's 'at. Ye can see
she ain't one of 'em.
Miss L. (trying to recommence). I
VOICE. They're a disgrace — them women be'ind
yer.
A MAN WITH A FATHERLY AIR. It's the w'y they
goes on as mykes the Government keep ye from gettin'
yer rights.
CHAIRMAN (losing his temper). It's the way you go
on that
(Noise increases. CHAIRMAN drowned, waves
his arms and moves his lips. MlSS
LEVERING discouraged, turns and looks
at ERNESTINE BLUNT and pantomimes
"It's no good. I can't go on." ERNES-
TINE BLUNT comes forward, says a word
to the CHAIRMAN, who ceases gyrating,
and nods.)
72 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS E. B. (facing the crowd). Look here. If the
Government withhold the vote because they don't like
the way some of us ask for it — let them give it to the
Quiet Ones. Does the Government want to punish all
women because they don't like the manners of a hand-
ful ? Perhaps that's you men's notion of justice. It
isn't women's.
VOICES. Haw ! haw !
MlSS L. Yes. Th-this is the first time I've ever
" gone on," as you call it, but they never gave me a
vote.
MlSS E. B. (with energy}. No ! And there are
one — two — three — four women on this platform. Now,
we all want the vote, as you know. Well, we'd agree
to be disfranchised all our lives, if they'd give the vote
to all the other women.
VOICE. Look here, you made one speech, give the
lady a chawnce.
MlSS E. B. (retires smiling). That's just what I
wanted you to do !
MlSS L. Perhaps you — you don't know — you
don't know
VOICE (sarcastic). 'Ow 're we goin' to know if you
can't tell us ?
MlSS L. (flushing and smiling). Thank you for
that. We couldn't have a better motto. How are you
to know if we can't somehow manage to tell you ?
( With a visible effort she goes on.) Well, I certainly
didn't know before that the sergeants and policemen
are instructed to deceive the people as to the time such
cases are heard. You ask, and you're sent to Marl-
borough Police Court instead of to Marylebone.
VOICE. They ought ter sent yer to 'Olloway — do y'
good.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 73
OLD NEWSVENDOR. You go on, Miss, don't mind
'im.
VOICE. Wot d'you expect from a pig but a grunt ?
Miss L. You're told the case will be at two
o'clock, and it's really called for eleven. Well, I took
a great deal of trouble, and I didn't believe what I was
told—
( Warming a little to her task.)
Yes, that's almost the first thing we have to learn — to
get over our touching faith that, because a man tells us
something, it's true. I got to the right court, and I
was so anxious not to be late, I was too early. The
case before the Women's was just coming on. I heard
a noise. At the door I saw the helmets of two police-
men, and I said to myself : " What sort of crime shall I
have to sit and hear about ? Is this a burglar coming
along between the two big policemen, or will it be a
murderer ? What sort of felon is to stand in the dock
before the women whose crime is they ask for the
vote ? " But, try as I would, I couldn't see the prisoner.
My heart misgave me. Is it a woman, I wondered ?
Then the policemen got nearer, and I saw — (she waits
an instant) — a little, thin, half -starved boy. What do
you think he was charged with ? Stealing. What had
he been stealing — that small criminal ? Milk. It
seemed to me as I sat there looking on, that the men
who had the affairs of the world in their hands from
the beginning, and who've made so poor a business
of it
VOICES. Oh ! oh ! Pore benighted man ! Are we
down-'earted ? Oh, no !
MlSS L. — so poor a business of it as to have the
poor and the unemployed in the condition they' e in
to-day — when your only remedy for a starving child
74 VOTES FOR WOMEN
is to hale him off to the police-court — because he had
managed to get a little milk — well, I did wonder that
the men refuse to be helped with a problem they've so
notoriously failed at. I began to say to myself : " Isn't
it time the women lent a hand ? "
A VOICE. Would you have women magistrates ?
(She is stumped by the suddenness of the demand.)
VOICES. Haw ! Haw ! Magistrates !
ANOTHEE. Women ! Let 'em prove first they
deserve
A SHABBY ART STUDENT (his hair longish, soft hat,
and flowing tie). They study music by thousands ;
where's their Beethoven ? Where's their Plato ?
Where's the woman Shakespeare ?
ANOTHER. Yes — what 'a' they ever done ?
(The speaker clenches her hands, and is recover-
ing her presence of mind, so that by the time
the CHAIRMAN can make himself heard
with, "Now men, give this lady a fair
hearing — don't interrupt " — she, with tfie
slightest of gestures, waves him aside with
a low " It's all right")
Miss L. (steadying and raising her voice). These
questions are quite proper ! They are often asked
elsewhere ; and I would like to ask in return : Since
when was human society held to exist for its handful
of geniuses ? How many Platos are there here in this
crowd ?
A VOICE (very loud and shrill). Divil a wan !
(Laughter.)
MlSS L. Not one. Yet that doesn't keep you
men off the register. How many Shakespeares are
VOTES FOR WOMEN 75
there in all England to-day ? Not one. Yet the State
doesn't tumble to pieces. Railroads and ships are built
— homes are kept going, and babies are born. The
world goes on ! (bending over the crowd} It goes on
by virtue of its common people.
VOICES (subdued}. Hear ! hear !
MlSS L. I am not concerned that you should
think we women can paint great pictures, or compose
immortal music, or write good books. I am content
that we should be classed with the common people —
who keep the world going. But (straightening up
and taking a fresh start), I'd like the world to go
a great deal better. We were talking about justice. I
have been inquiring into the kind of lodging the
poorest class of homeless women can get in this town
of London. I find that only the men of that class are
provided for. Some measure to establish Rowton
Houses for women has been before the London
County Council. They looked into the question
" very carefully," so their apologists say. And what
did they decide ? They decided that they could do
nothing.
LADY JOHN (having forced her way to STONOR'S
side). Is that true ?
STONOB (speaking through MlSS LEVERING'S next
words). I don't know.
MlSS L. Why could that great, all-powerful body
do nothing ? Because, if these cheap and decent
houses were opened, they said, the homeless women
in the streets would make use of them ! You'll
think I'm not in earnest. But that was actually the
decision and the reason given for it. Women that the
bitter struggle for existence has forced into a life of
horror
76 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOR (sternly to LADY JOHN). You think this
is the kind of thing (A motion of the head towards
JEAN.)
Miss L. — the outcast women might take ad-
vantage of the shelter these decent, cheap places
offered. But the men, I said ! Are all who avail
themselves of Lord Rowton's hostels, are they all
angels ? Or does wrong-doing in a man not matter ?
Yet women are recommended to depend on the chivalry
of men.
(The two policemen, who at first had been stroll-
ing about, have stood during this scene in
front of GEOFFREY STONOR. They turn
now and walk away, leaving STONOR
exposed. He, embarrassed, moves uneasily,
and VIDA LEVERING'S eye falls upon his
big figure. He still has the collar of his
motor coat turned up to his ears. A change
passes over her face, and her nerve fails her
an instant.}
MISS L. Justice and chivalry ! ! (she steadies
her voice and hurries on) — they both remind me of
what those of you who read the police-court
news — (I have begun only lately to do that) — but
you've seen the accounts of the girl who's been tried
in Manchester lately for the murder of her child. Not
pleasant reading. Even if we'd noticed it, we wouldn't
speak of it in my world. A few months ago I should
have turned away my eyes and forgotten even the
headline as quickly as I could. But since that morn-
ing in the police-court, I read these things. This,
as you'll remember, was about a little working girl —
an orphan of eighteen — who crawled with the dead
VOTES FOR WOMEN 77
body of her new-born child to her master's back-door,
and left the baby there. She dragged herself a little
way off and fainted. A few days later she found her-
self in court, being tried for the murder of her child.
Her master — a married man — had of course reported the
" find " at his back-door to the police, and he had been
summoned to give evidence. The girl cried out to
him in the open court, " You are the father ! " He
couldn't deny it. The Coroner at the jury's request
censured the man, and regretted that the law didn't
make him responsible. But he went scot-free. And
that girl is now serving her sentence in Strangeways
Gaol.
{Murmuring and scraps of indistinguishable
comment in the crowd, through which
only JEAN'S voice is clear.}
JEAN (who has wormed her way to STONOR'S side}.
Why do you dislike her so ?
STONOR. I ? Why should you think
JEAN (with a vaguely frightened air). I never saw
you look as you did — as you do.
CHAIRMAN. Order, please — give the lady a fair
Miss L. (signing to him " Ifs all right"}. Men
make boast that an English citizen is tried by his peers.
What woman is tried by hers ?
(A sombre passion strengthens her voice and
hurries her on.}
A woman is arrested by a man, brought before a man
judge, tried by a jury of men, condemned by men,
taken to prison by a man, and by a man she's hanged !
Where in all this were her " peers " ? Why did men
so long ago insist on trial by " a jury of their peers " ?
So that justice shouldn't miscarry — wasn't it ? A
78 VOTES FOR WOMEN
man's peers would best understand his circumstances,
his temptation, the degree of his guilt. Yet there's no
such unlikeness between different classes of men as
exists between man and woman. What man has the
knowledge that makes him a fit judge of woman's
deeds at that time of anguish — that hour — (lowers her
voice and bends over the crowd) — that hour that some
woman struggled through to put each man here into
the world. I noticed when a previous speaker quoted
the Labour Party you applauded. Some of you here —
I gather — call yourselves Labour men. Every woman
who has borne a child is a Labour woman. No man
among you can judge what she goes through in her
hour of darkness
JEAN {with frightened eyes on her lover's set, white
face, whispers}. Geoffrey
Miss L (catching her fluttering breath, goes on very
low} — in that great agony when, even under the best
conditions that money and devotion can buy, many a
woman falls into temporary mania, and not a few go
down to death. In the case of this poor little abandoned
working girl, what man can be the fit judge of her
deeds in that awful moment of half-crazed temptation ?
Women know of these things as those know burning
who have walked through fire.
(STONOB makes a motion towards JEAN and she
turns away fronting the audience. Her
hands go up to her throat as though she
suffered a choking sensation. It is in her
face that she "knows." Miss LEVERING
leans over the platform and speaks with a
low and thrilling earnestness.}
I would say in conclusion to the women here, it's not
VOTES FOR WOMEN 79
enough to be sorry for these our unfortunate sisters.
We must get the conditions of life made fairer. We
women must organise. We must learn to work to-
gether. We have all (rich and poor, happy and
unhappy) worked so long and so exclusively for
men, we hardly know how to work for one another.
But we must learn. Those who can, may give
money
VOICES (grumbling}. Oh, yes — Money ! Money !
MISS L. Those who haven't pennies to give — even
those people aren't so poor they can't give some part
of their labour — some share of their sympathy and
support.
(Turns to hear something the CHAIBMAN is
whispering to her.}
JEAN (low to LADY JOHN). Oh, I'm glad I've got
power !
LADY JOHN (bewildered). Power ! — you ?
JEAN. Yes, all that money
(LADY JOHN tries to make her way to STONOB.)
Miss L. (suddenly turning from the CHAIRMAN to
the crowd). Oh, yes, I hope you'll all join the Union.
Come up after the meeting and give your names.
LOUD VOICE. You won't get many men.
MlSS L. (with fire}. Then it's to the women I appeal !
(She is about to retire when, with a sudden
gleam in her lit eyes, she turns for the last
time to the crowd, silencing the general
murmur and holding the people by the
sudden concentration of passion in her face.}
I don't mean to say it wouldn't be better if men and
women did this work together — shoulder to shoulder.
80 VOTES FOR WOMEN
But the mass of men won't have it so. I only hope
they'll realise in time the good they've renounced and
the spirit they've aroused. For I know as well as any
man could tell me, it would be a bad day for England
if all women felt about all men as / do.
(She retires in a tumult. The others on the plat-
form close about her. The CHAIKMAN tries
in vain to get a hearing from the excited
crowd.)
(JEAN tries to make her way through the knot
of people surging round her.)
STONOR (calls). Here ! — Follow me !
JEAN. No— no— I
STONOR. You're going the wrong way.
JEAN. This is the way I must go.
STONOR. You can get out quicker on this side.
JEAN. I don't want to get out.
STONOR. What ! Where are you going ?
JEAN. To ask that woman to let me have the honour
of working with her.
(She disappears in the crowd.)
CURTAIN.
ACT III
SCENE : The drawing-room at old MR. DUN-
BARTON'S house in Eaton Square. Six
o'clock the same evening. As the Curtain
rises the door (L.) opens and JEAN appears
on the threshold. She looks back into her
own sitting-room, then crosses the drawing-
room, treading softly on the parquet spaces
between the rugs. She goes to the window
and is in the act of parting the lace cur-
tains when the folding doors (0.) are opened
by the BUTLER.
JEAN (to the Servant}. Sh !
(She goes softly back to the door she has left open
and closes it carefully. When she turns,
the BUTLER has stepped aside to admit
GEOFFREY STONOR, and departed, shutting
the folding doors. STONOR comes rapidly
forward.)
(Before he gets a word out.") Speak low, please.
STONOR (angrily). I waited about a whole hour
for you to come back.
(JEAN turns away as though vaguely looking
for the nearest chair.)
G 81
82 VOTES FOR WOMEN
If yon didn't mind leaving me like that, you might
have considered Lady John.
JEAN (pausing). Is she here with you ?
STONOR. No. My place was nearer than this, and
she was very tired. I left her to get some tea. We
couldn't tell whether you'd be here, or what had
become of you.
JEAN. Mr. Trent got us a hansom.
STONOR. Trent ?
JEAN. The Chairman of the meeting.
STONOR. " Got us " ?
JEAN. Miss Levering and me.
STONOR (incensed). Miss L
BUTLER (opens the door and announces) Mr. Farn-
borough.
(Enter MR. RICHARD FARNBOROUGH — more
flurried than ever.)
FARN. (seeing STONOR). At last ! You'll forgive
this incursion, Miss Dunbarton, when you hear
(Turns abruptly back to STONOR.) They've been
telegraphing you all over London. In despair they set
me on your track.
STONOR. Who did ? What's up ?
FARN. (lays down his hat and fumbles agitatedly
in his breast-pocket). There was the devil to pay at
Dutfield last night. The Liberal chap tore down from
London and took over your meeting !
STONOR. Oh ? — Nothing about it in the Sunday
paper /saw.
FARN. Wait till you see the Press to-morrow morn-
ing ! There was a great rally and the beggar made a
rousing speech.
STONOR. What about ?
VOTES FOR WOMEN 83
FARN. Abolition of the Upper House
STONOR. They were at that when I was at
Eton!
FARN. Yes. But this new man has got a way of
putting things ! — the people went mad. (Pompously.)
The Liberal platform as denned at Dutfield is going to
make a big difference.
STONOR (drily). You think so.
FARN. Well, your agent says as much. (Opens
telegram.)
STONOR. My (Talcing telegram.) "Try find
Stonor "— Hm ! Hm !
FARN. (pointing). — "tremendous effect of last night's
Liberal manifesto ought to be counteracted in to-
morrow's papers." (Very earnestly.) You see, Mr.
Stonor, it's a battle-cry we want.
STONOR (turns on Ms heel). Claptrap !
FARN. (a little dashed). Well, they've been saying
we have nothing to offer but personal popularity. No
practical reform. No
STONOR. No truckling to the masses, I suppose.
(Walks impatiently away.)
FARN. (snubbed). Well, in these democratic days
(Turns to JEAN for countenance.) I hope you'll forgive
my bursting in like this. (Struck by her face.) But I can
see you realise the gravity (Lowering his voice with
an air of speaking for her ear alone.) It isn't as if he
were going to be a mere private member. Everybody
knows he'll be in the Cabinet.
STONOR (drily). It may be a Liberal Cabinet.
FARN. Nobody thought so up to last night. Why,
even your brother — but I am afraid I'm seeming
officious. (Takes up his hat.)
STONOR (coldly). What about my brother ?
84 VOTES FOR WOMEN
FARN. I met Lord Windlesham as I rushed out of
the Carlton.
STONOR. Did he say anything ?
FARN. I told him the Dutfield news.
STONOR (impatiently}. Well ?
FARN. He said it only confirmed his fears.
STONOR (half under his breath). Said that, did he ?
FARN. Yes. Defeat is inevitable, he thinks, un-
less (Pause.)
(GEOFFREY STONOR, who has been pacing the
floor, stops but doesn't raise his eyes.)
unless you can " manufacture some political dynamite
within the next few hours." Those were his words.
STONOR (resumes his walking to and fro, raises his
head and catches sight of JEAN'S white, drawn face.
Stops short). You are very tired.
JEAN. No. No.
STONOR (to FARNBOROUGH). I'm obliged to you
for taking so much trouble. (Shakes hands by way of
dismissing FARNBOROUGH.) I'll see what can be
done.
FARN. (offering the reply-paid form). If you'd like
to wire I'll take it.
STONOR (faintly amused). You don't understand,
my young friend. Moves of this kind are not rushed
at by responsible politicians. I must have time for
consideration.
FARN. (disappointed). Oh, well, I only hope some-
one else won't jump into the breach before you —
(Watch in hand) I tell you. (To JEAN.) I'll find out
what time the newspapers go to press on Sunday. Good-
bye. (To STONOR.) I'll be at the Club just in case I
can be of any use.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 85
STONOR (firmly*). No, don't do that. If I should
have anything new to say
FARN. (feverishly}. B-b-but with our party, as your
brother said — "heading straight for a vast electoral
disaster "
STONOR. If I decide on a counterblast I shall
simply telegraph to headquarters. Goodbye.
FARN. Oh — a — g-goodbye. (A gesture of "The
country's going to the dogs")
(JEAN rings the bell. Exit FARNBOROUGH.)
STONOR (studying the carpet). " Political dynamite,"
eh ? (Pause.) After all ... women are much more
conservative than men — aren't they ?
(JEAN looks straight in front of her, making no
attempt to reply.)
Especially the women the property qualification would
bring in. (He glances at JEAN as though for the first
time conscious of her silence.) You see now (he throws
himself into the chair by the table) one reason why I've
encouraged you to take an interest in public affairs.
Because people like us don't go screaming about it, is
no sign we don't (some of us) see what's on the way.
However little they want to, women of our class will
have to come into line. All the best things in the
world — everything that civilisation has won will be in
danger if — when this change comes — the only women
who have practical political training are the women of
the lower classes. Women of the lower classes, and
(his brows knit heavily) — women inoculated by the
Socialist virus.
JEAN. Geoffrey.
STONOR (draws the telegraph form towards him). Let
86 VOTES FOR WOMEN
us see, how we shall put it — when the time comes —
shall we ? (He detaches a pencil from his watch chain
and bends over the paper, writing.)
(JEAN opens her lips to speak, moves a shade
nearer the table and then falls back upon
her silent, half-incredulous misery.)
STONOB (holds the paper off, smiling}. Enough
dynamite in that ! Rather too much, isn't there, little
girl ?
JEAN. Geoffrey, I know her story.
STONOR. Whose story ?
JEAN. Miss Levering's.
STONOR. Whose ?
JEAN. Vida Levering's.
(STONOR stares speechless. Slight pause.)
(The words escaping from her in a miserable cry)
Why did you desert her ?
STONOR (staggered.) I ? I?
JEAN. Oh, why did you do it ?
STONOR (bewildered). What in the name of
What has she been saying to you ?
JEAN. Some one else told me part. Then the way
you looked when you saw her at Aunt Ellen's — Miss
Levering's saying you didn't know her — then your
letting out that you knew even the curious name on
the handkerchief Oh, I pieced it together
STONOR (with recovered self-possession). Your
ingenuity is undeniable 1
JEAN — and then, when she said that at the meeting
about " the dark hour " and I looked at your face — it
flashed over me Oh, why did you desert her ?
STONOR. I didn't desert her.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 87
JEAN. Ah-h ! (Puts her hands before her eyes.)
' (STONOR makes a passionate motion towards her,
is checked by her muffled voice saying}
I'm glad — I'm glad !
(He stares bewildered. JEAN drops her hands
in her lap and steadies her voice.)
She went away from you, then ?
STONOR. You don't expect me to enter into
JEAN. She went away from you ?
STONOR (with a look of almost uncontrollable
anger). Yes !
JEAN. Was that because you wouldn't marry
her ?
STONOR. I couldn't marry her — and she knew it.
JEAN. Did you want to ?
STONOR (an instant's angry scrutiny and then
turning away his eyes). I thought I did — then. It's
a long time ago.
JEAN. And why " couldn't" you ?
STONOR (a movement of strong irritation cut short).
Why are you catechising me ? It's a matter that con-
cerns another woman.
JEAN. If you're saying that it doesn't concern me,
you're saying — (her lip trembles) — that you don't
concern me.
STONOR (commanding his temper with difficulty).
In those days I — I was absolutely dependent on my
father.
JEAN. Why, you must have been thirty, Geoffrey.
STONOR (slight pause). What ? Oh — thereabouts.
JEAN. And everybody says you're so clever.
STONOR. Well, everybody's mistaken.
88 VOTES FOR WOMEN
JEAN (drawing nearer). It must have been terribly
hard
(STONOR turns towards her.)
for you both —
(He arrests his movement and stands stonily.)
that a man like you shouldn't have had the freedom
that even the lowest seem to have.
STONOR. Freedom ?
JEAN. To marry the woman they choose.
STONOR. She didn't break off our relations because
I couldn't marry her.
JEAN. Why was it, then ?
STONOR. You're too young to discuss such a story.
(Half turns away.)
JEAN. I'm not so young as she was when
STONOR (wheeling upon her). Very well, then, if
you will have it ! The truth is, it didn't seem to weigh
upon her, as it seems to on you, that I wasn't able to
marry her.
JEAN. Why are you so sure of that ?
STONOR. Because she didn't so much as hint such
a thing when she wrote that she meant to break off
the — the
JEAN. What made her write like that ?
STONOR (with suppressed rage). Why will you go
on talking of what's so long over and ended ?
JEAN. What reason did she give ?
STONOR. If your curiosity has so got the upper hand
— ask her.
JEAN (her eyes upon him). You're afraid to tell me.
STONOR (putting pressure on himself to answer
quietly). I still hoped — at that time — to win my
father over. She blamed me because (goes to window
VOTES FOR WOMEN 89
and looks blindly out and speaks in a low tone) if
the child had lived it wouldn't have been possible to
get my father to— to overlook it.
JEAN (faintly}. You wanted it overlooked ? I
don't underst
STONOR (turning passionately back to her}. Of
course you don't. (He seizes her hand and tries to
draw her to him.) If you did, you wouldn't be the
beautiful, tender, innocent child you are
JEAN (has withdrawn her hand and shrunk from
him with an impulse — slight as is its expression — so
tragically eloquent, that fear for the first time catches
hold of him). I am glad you didn't mean to desert
her, Geoffrey. It wasn't your fault after all — only
some misunderstanding that can be cleared up.
STONOR. Cleared up ?
JEAN. Yes. Cleared up.
STONOR (aghast). You aren't thinking that this
miserable old affair I'd as good as forgotten
JEAN (in a horror-struck whisper, with a glance at
the door which he doesn't see). Forgotten !
STONOR. No, no. I don't mean exactly forgotten.
But you're torturing me so I don't know what I'm
saying. (Be goes closer.) You aren't — Jean ! you —
you aren't going to let it come between you and me !
JEAN (presses her handkerchief to her lips, and then,
taking it away, answers steadily). I can't make or
unmake what's past. But I'm glad, at least, that you
didn't mean to desert her in her trouble. You'll
remind her of that first of all, won't you ? (Moves
to the door, L.)
STONOR. Where are you going ? (liaising his
voice.) Why should I remind anybody of what I
want only to forget ?
90 VOTES FOR WOMEN
JEAN (finger on lip}. Sh !
STONOR (with eyes on the door). You don't mean
that she's
JEAN. Yes. I left her to get a little rest.
(He recoils in an access of uncontrollable rage.
She follows him. Speechless, he goes down
R. to get his hat.}
Geoffrey, don't go before you hear me. I don't know
if what I think matters to you now — but I hope it
does. ( With tears.) You can still make me think of
you without shrinking — if you will.
STONOR (fixes her a moment with his eyes. Then
sternly). What is it you are asking of me ?
JEAN. To make amends, Geoffrey.
STONOR (with an outburst). You poor little
innocent !
JEAN. I'm poor enough. But (locking her hands
together) I'm not so innocent but what I know you
must right that old wrong now, if you're ever to
right it.
STONOR. You aren't insane enough to think I
would turn round in these few hours and go back to
something that ten years ago was ended for ever !
Why, it's stark, staring madness!
JEAN. No. (Catching on his arm.) What you did
ten years ago — that was mad. This is paying a debt.
STONOR. Look here, Jean, you're dreadfully
wrought up and excited — tired too
JEAN. No, not tired — though I've travelled so far
to-day. I know you smile at sudden conversions.
You think they're hysterical — worse — vulgar. But
people must get their revelation how they can. And,
Geoffrey, if I can't make you see this one of mine — I
VOTES FOR WOMEN 91
shall know your love could never mean strength to
me. Only weakness. And I shall be afraid. So
afraid I'll never dare to give you the chance of making
me loathe myself. I shall never see you again.
STONOR. How right / was to be afraid of that vein
of fanaticism in you. (Moves towards the door.)
JEAN. Certainly you couldn't make a greater
mistake than to go away now and think it any
good ever to come back. (He turns.) Even if I came
to feel different, I couldn't do anything different. I
should know all this couldn't be forgotten. I should
know that it would poison my life in the end. Yours
too.
STONOR (with suppressed fury). She has made
good use of her time ! ( With a sudden thought.)
What has changed her ? Has she been seeing visions
too ?
JEAN. What do you mean ?
STONOR. Why is she intriguing to get hold of a
man that, ten years ago, she flatly refused to see, or
hold any communication with ?
JEAN. " Intriguing to get hold of ? " She hasn't
mentioned you !
STONOR. What ! Then how in the name of Heaven
do you know — that she wants — what you ask ?
JEAN (firmly). There can't be any doubt about
that.
STONOR (with immense relief). You absurd, ridicu-
lous child ! Then all this is just your own unaided
invention. Well — I could thank God ! (Falls into
the nearest chair and passes his handkerchief over his
face.)
JEAN (perplexed, uneasy). For what are you thank-
ing God ?
92 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOE (trying to think out his plan of action).
Suppose — (I'm not going to risk it) — but suppose —
(He looks up and at the sight of JEAN'S face a new
tenderness comes into his own. He rises suddenly.}
Whether I deserve to suffer or not — it's quite certain
you don't. Don't cry, dear one. It never was the
real thing. I had to wait till I knew you before I
understood.
JEAN (lifts her eyes brimming). Oh, is that true ?
(Checks her movement towards him.) Loving you
has made things clear to me I didn't dream of before.
If I could think that because of me you were able to
do this
STONOR (seizes her by the shoulders and says
hoarsely). Look here ! Do you seriously ask me to
give up the girl I love — to go and offer to marry a
woman that even to think of
JEAN. You cared for her once. You'll care about
her again. She is beautiful and brilliant— everything.
I've heard she could win any man she set herself
to
, STONOR (pushing JEAN from him). She's be-
witched you !
JEAN. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, you aren't going away
lik that. This isn't the end !
STONOR (darkly — hesitating). I suppose even if
she refused me, you'd
JEAN. She won't refuse you.
STONOR. She did once.
JEAN. She didn't refuse to marry you
(JEAN is going to the door L.)
STONOR (catches her by the arm) Wait ! — a
(Hunting for some means of gaining time.) Lady John
VOTES FOR WOMEN 93
is waiting all this while for the car to go back with a
message.
JEAN. That's not a matter of life and death
STONOR. All the same — I'll go down and give the
order.
JEAN (stopping quite still on a sudden). Very
well. (Sits C.) You'll come back if you're the
man I pray you are. (Breaks into a flood of silent
tears, her elbows on the table (C.) her face in her
hands.}
STONOR (returns, bends over Jier, about to take her
in his arms). Dearest of all the world
(Door L. opens softly and VIDA LEVERING
appears. She is arrested at sight of
STONOR, and is in the act of drawing
back when, upon the slight noise, STONOR
looks round. His face darkens, he stands
staring at her and then with a look of
speechless anger goes silently out C. JEAN,
hearing him shut the door, drops her head
on the table with a sob. VIDA LEVERING
crosses slowly to her and stands a n/loment
silent at the girl's side.)
MISS L. What is the matter ?
JEAN (lifting her head and drying her eyes). I —
I've been seeing Geoffrey.
Miss L. (with an attempt at lightness). Is this the
effect seeing Geoffrey has ?
JEAN. You see, I know now (as MlSS LEVERING
looks quite uncomprehending) — how he (drops her eyes)
— how he spoiled some one else's life.
MlSS L. (quickly). Who tells you that ?
JEAN. Several people have told me.
94 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS L. Well, you should be very careful how you
believe what you hear.
JEAN (passionately}. You know it's true.
Miss L. I know that it's possible to be mistaken.
JEAN. I see ! You're trying to shield him
Miss L. Why should I — what is it to me ?
JEAN {with tears). Oh — h, how you must love
him!
MlSS L. Listen to me
JEAN (rising). What's the use of your going on
denying it ?
(MlSS LEVERING, about to break in, is silenced.)
Geoffrey doesn't.
(JEAN, struggling to command her feelings, goes
to window. VIDA LEVERING relinquishes
an impulse to follow, and sits left centre.
JEAN comes slowly back with her eyes bent
on the floor, does not lift them till she is quite
near VlDA. Then the girl's self-absorbed
face changes.)
Oh, don't look like that ! I shall bring him back to
you ! (Drops on her knees beside the other's chair.)
MlSS L. You would be impertinent (softening) if
you weren't a romantic child. You can't bring him
back.
JEAN. Yes, he
MlSS L. But there's something you can do
JEAN. What ?
Miss L. Bring him to the point where he recognises
that he's in our debt.
JEAN. In our debt ?
MlSS L. In debt to women. He can't repay the
one he robbed
VOTES FOR WOMEN 95
JEAN (wincing and rising from her knees). Yes,
yes.
MISS L. (sternly). No, he can't repay the dead.
But there are the living. There are the thousands
with hope still in their hearts and youth in their
blood. Let him help them. Let him. be a Friend to
Women.
JEAN (rising on a wave of enthusiasm). Yes, yes —
I understand. That too !
(The door opens. As STONOR enters with LADY
JOHN, he makes a slight gesture towards
the two as much as to say, " You see")
JEAN (catching sight of him). Thank you !
LADY JOHN (in a clear, commonplace tone to JEAN).
Well, you rather gave us the slip. Vida, I believe
Mr. Stonor wants to see you for a few minutes (glances
at watch) — but I'd like a word with you first, as I
must get back. (To STONOR.) Do you think the car
— your man said something about re-charging.
STONOR (hastily). Oh, did he ? — I'll see about it.
(As STONOR is going out he encounters the
BUTLER. Exit STONOR.)
BUTLER. Mr. Trent has called, Miss, to take Miss
Levering to the meeting.
JEAN. Bring Mr. Trent into my sitting-room. I'll
tell him — you can't go to-night.
[Exeunt BUTLER c., JEAN L.
LADY JOHN (hurriedly). I know, my dear, you're
not aware of what that impulsive girl wants to insist on.
Miss L. Yes, I am aware of it.
LADY JOHN. But it isn't with your sanction, surely,
that she goes on making this extraordinary demand.
96 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS L. (slowly). I didn't sanction it at first, but
I've been thinking it over.
LADY JOHN. Then all I can say is I am greatly
disappointed in you. You threw this man over years
ago for reasons — whatever they were — that seemed to
you good and sufficient. And now you come between
him and a younger woman — just to play Nemesis, so
far as I can make out !
MlSS L. Is that what he says ?
LADY JOHN. He says nothing that isn't fair and
considerate.
Miss L. I can see he's changed.
LADY JOHN. And you're unchanged — is that it ?
MlSS L. I've changed even more than he.
LADY JOHN. But (pity and annoyance blended in
her tone} — you care about him still, Vida ?
MlSS L. No.
LADY JOHN. I see. It's just that you wish to marry
somebody
MlSS L. Oh, Lady John, there are no men
listening.
LADY JOHN (surprised). No, I didn't suppose there
were.
MlSS L. Then why keep up that old pretence ?
LADY JOHN. What pre
MlSS L. That to marry at all costs is every
woman's dearest ambition till the grave closes over her.
You and I know it isn't true.
LADY JOHN. Well, but Oh ! it was just the
unexpected sight of him bringing it back That
was what fired you this afternoon ! ( With an honest
attempt at sympathetic understanding.) Of course.
The memory of a thing like that can never die — can
never even be dimmed— /or the woman.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 97
MISS L. I mean her to think so.
LADY JOHN (bewildered}. Jean !
(Miss LEVERING nods.)
LADY JOHN. And it isn't so ?
MlSS L. You don't seriously believe a woman
with anything else to think about, comes to the end
of ten years still absorbed in a memory of that
sort ?
LADY JOHN (astonished). You've got over it, then !
Miss L. If the newspapers didn't remind me I
shouldn't remember once a twelvemonth that .there
was ever such a person as Geoffrey Stonor in the
world.
LADY JOHN (with unconscious rapture). Oh, I'm
so glad !
MlSS L. (smiles grimly). Yes, I'm glad too.
LADY JOHN. And if Geoffrey Stonor offered you —
what's called " reparation " — you'd refuse it ?
MlSS L. (smiles a little contemptuously). Geoffrey
Stonor ! For me he's simply one of the far-back links
in a chain of evidence. It's certain I think a hundred
times of other women's present unhappiness, to once
that I remember that old unhappiness of mine
that's past. I think of the nail and chain makers of
Cradley Heath. The sweated girls of the slums. I
think of the army of ill-used women whose very
existence I mustn't mention
LADY JOHN (interrupting hurriedly). Then why
in Heaven's name do you let poor Jean imagine
MlSS L. (bending forward). Look — I'll trust
you, Lady John. I don't suffer from that old wrong
as Jean thinks I do, but I shall coin her sympathy into
gold for a greater cause than mine.
98 VOTES FOR WOMEN
LADY JOHN. I don't understand you.
MlSS L. Jean isn't old enough to be able to care
as much about a principle as about a person. But if
my half-forgotten pain can turn her generosity into
the common treasury
LADY JOHN. What do you propose she shall do,
poor child ?
Miss L. Use her hold over Geoffrey Stonor to
make him help us I
LADY JOHN. Help you ?
MlSS L. The man who served one woman — God
knows how many more — very ill, shall serve hundreds
of thousands well. Geoffrey Stonor shall make it
harder for his son, harder still for his grandson, to
treat any woman as he treated me.
LADY JOHN. How will he do that ?
Miss L. By putting an end to the helplessness of
women.
LADY JOHN (ironically}. You must think he has
a great deal of power
MlSS L. Power ? Yes, men have too much over
penniless and frightened women.
LADY JOHN (impatiently}. What nonsense! You
talk as though the women hadn't their share of human
nature. We aren't made of ice any more than the
men.
Miss L. No, but all the same we have more self-
control.
LADY JOHN. Than men ?
MlSS L. You know we have.
LADY JOHN (shrewdly}. I know we mustn't
admit it.
MlSS L. For fear they'd call us fishes !
LADY JOHN (evasively}. They talk of our lack of
VOTES FOR WOMEN 99
self-control — bnt it's the last thing they want women
to have.
MlSS L. Oh, we know what they want us to
have. So we make shift to have it. If we don't, we
go without hope — sometimes we go without bread.
LADY JOHN (shocked). Vida — do you mean to say
that you
MlSS L. I mean to say that men's vanity won't
let them see it, but the thing's largely a question of
economics.
LADY JOHN (shocked). You never loved him, then !
MlSS L. Oh, yes, I loved him — once. It was my
helplessness turned the best thing life can bring, into
a curse for both of us.
LADY JOHN. I don't understand you
MlSS L. Oh, being " understood ! " — that's too
much to expect. When people come to know I've
joined the Union
LADY JOHN. But you won't-
MlSS L. — who is there who will resist the temp-
tation to say, " Poor Vida Levering ! What a pity she
hasn't got a husband and a baby to keep her quiet " ?
The few who know about me, they'll be equally sure
that it's not the larger view of life I've gained — my
own poor little story is responsible for my new
departure. (Leans forward and looks into LADY
JOHN'S face.) My best friend, she will be surest of
all, that it's a private sense of loss, or, lower yet, a
grudge ! But I tell you the only difference
between me and thousands of women with husbands
and babies is that I'm free to say what I think. They
aren't.
LADY JOHN (rising and looking at her watch). I
must get back — my poor ill-used guests.
100 VOTES FOR WOMEN
Miss L. (rising}. I won't ring. I think you'll
find Mr. Stonor downstairs waiting for you.
LADY JOHN (embarrassed). Oh — a — he will have
left word about the car in any case.
(Miss LEVERING has opened the door (C.).
ALLEN TRENT is in the act of saying
goodbye to JEAN in the hall.}
MlSS L. Well, Mr. Trent, I didn't expect to see
you this evening.
TRENT (comes and stands in the doorway). Why
not ? Have I ever failed ?
MlSS L. Lady John, this is one of our allies.
He is good enough to squire me through the rabble
from time to time.
LADY JOHN. Well, I think it's very handsome of
you, after what she said to-day about men. (Shakes
hands.)
TRENT. I've no great opinion of most men myself.
I might add — or of most women.
LADY JOHN. Oh ! Well, at any rate I shall go
away relieved to think that Miss Levering's plain
speaking hasn't alienated all masculine regard.
TRENT. Why should it ?
LADY JOHN. That's right, Mr. Trent I Don't believe
all she says in the heat of propaganda.
TRENT. I do believe all she says. But I'm not
cast down.
LADY JOHN (smiling). Not when she says
TRENT (interrupting). Was there never a mysogy-
nist of my sex who ended by deciding to make an
exception ?
LADY JOHN (smiling significantly). Oh, if that's
what you build on !
VOTES FOR WOMEN 101
TRENT. Well, why shouldn't a man-hater on your
side prove equally open to reason ?
MISS L. That part of the question doesn't con-
cern me. I've come to a place where I realise that the
first battles of this new campaign must be fought by
women alone. The only effective help men could give
— amendment of the law — they refuse. The rest is
nothing.
LADY JOHN. Don't be ungrateful, Vida. Here's Mr.
Trent ready to face criticism in publicly champion-
ing you.
MlSS L. It's an illusion that I as an individual
need Mr. Trent. I am quite safe in the crowd. Please
don't wait for me, and don't come for me again.
TRENT (flushes). Of course if you'd rather
MlSS L. And that reminds me. I was asked to
thank you and to tell you, too, that they — the women of
the Union — they won't need your chairmanship any
more — though that, I beg you to believe, has nothing
to do with any feeling of mine.
TRENT (hurt). Of course, I know there must be
other men ready — better known men
MlSS L. It isn't that. It's simply that they find
a man can't keep a rowdy meeting in order as well as
a woman.
(He stares.")
LADY JOHN. You aren't serious ?
Miss L. (to TRENT). Haven't you noticed that
all their worst disturbances come when men are in
charge ?
TRENT. Well — a — (laughs a little ruefully as he
moves to the door) I hadn't connected the two ideas.
Goodbye.
102 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MlSS L. Goodbye.
(JEAN takes him downstairs, right centre,}
LADY JOHN (as TRENT disappears). That nice
boy's in love with you.
(Miss LEVERING simply looks at her.}
LADY JOHN. Goodbye. (They shake hands.} I
wish you hadn't been so unkind to that nice boy !
MISS L. Do you ?
LADY JOHN. Yes, for then I would be more certain
of your telling Geoffrey Stonor that intelligent women
don't nurse their wrongs and lie in wait to punish
them.
MlSS L. You are not certain ?
LADY JOHN (goes close up to VIDA). Are you ?
(VlDA stands with her eyes on the ground, silent,
motionless. LADY JOHN, with a nervous
glance at her watch and a gesture of
extreme perturbation, goes hurriedly out.
VlDA shuts the door. She comes slowly
back, sits down and covers her face with
her hands. She rises and begins to walk
up and down, obviously trying to master
her agitation. Enter GEOFFREY STONOR.)
MlSS L. Well, have they primed you ? Have
you got your lesson (with a little broken laugh} by
heart at last ?
STONOR (looking at her from immeasurable dis-
tance}. I am not sure I understand you. (Pause.}
However unpropitious your mood may be — I shall
discharge my errand. (Pause. Her silence irritates
VOTES FOR WOMEN 103
him.} I have promised to offer you what I believe is
called " amends."
MiSS L. (quickly). You've come to realise, then —
after all these years — that you owed me something ?
STONOR (on the brink of protest, checks himself). I
am not here to deny it.
MISS L. (fiercely}. Pay, then— pay.
STONOR (a moment's dread as he looks at her, his
lips set. Then stonily). I have promised that, if you
exact it, I will.
MISS L. Ah ! If I insist you'll " make it all
good"! (Quite loiv.) Then don't you know you
must pay me in kind ?
STONOR. What do you mean.
Miss L. Give me back what you took from me :
my old faith. Give me that.
STONOR. Oh, if you mean to make phrases (A
gesture of scant patience.)
MiSS L. (going closer). Or give me back mere kind-
ness— or even tolerance. Oh, I don't mean your
tolerance ! Give me back the power to think fairly
of my brothers — not as mockers — thieves.
STONOR. I have not mocked you. And I have
asked you
MiSS L. Something you knew I should refuse !
Or (her eyes blase) did you dare to be afraid I
wouldn't ?
STONOR. I suppose, if we set our teeth, we
could
MiSS L. I couldn't — not even if I set my teeth.
And you wouldn't dream of asking me, if you thought
there was the smallest chance.
STONOR. I can do no more than make you an
offer of such reparation as is in my power. If you
104 VOTES FOR WOMEN
don't accept it (He turns with an air of " That's
done:'}
MlSS L. Accept it ? No ! ... Go away and live
in debt ! Pay and pay and pay — and find yourself
still in debt ! — for a thing you'll never be able to give
me back. (Lower.} And when you come to die, say
to yourself, " I paid all creditors but one."
STONOR. I'm rather tired, you know, of this talk
of debt. If I hear that you persist in it I shall
have to
MISS L. What ? (She faces him}
STONOR. No. I'll keep to my resolution. (Turn-
ing to the door.}
Miss L. (intercepting him}. What resolution ?
STONOR. I came here, under considerable pressure,
to speak of the future — not to re-open the past.
MlSS L. The Future and the Past are one.
STONOR. You talk as if that old madness was mine
alone. It is the woman's way.
MlSS L. I know. And it's not fair. Men suffer as
well as we by the woman's starting wrong. We are
taught to think the man a sort of demigod. If he tells
her : " go down into Hell " — down into Hell she goes.
STONOR. Make no mistake. Not the woman alone.
They go down together.
MlSS L. Yes, they go down together, but the man
comes up alone. As a rule. It is more convenient so
— for him. And for the Other Woman.
(The eyes of both go to JEAN'S door.}
STONOR (angrily}. My conscience is clear. I know
— and so do you — that most men in my position
wouldn't have troubled themselves. I gave myself
endless trouble.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 105
Miss L. (with wondering eyes). So you've gone
about all these years feeling that you'd discharged
every obligation.
STONOR. Not only that. I stood by you with a
fidelity that was nothing short of Quixotic. If, woman
like, you must' recall the Past — I insist on your re-
calling it correctly.
Miss L. (very low). You think I don't recall it
correctly ?
STONOR. Not when you make — other people
believe that I deserted you. ( With gathering wrath.}
It's a curious enough charge when you stop to con-
sider (Checks himself, and with a gesture of im-
patience sweeps the whole thing out of his way.}
Miss L. Well, when we do — just for five minutes
out of ten years — when we do stop to consider
STONOR. We remember it was you who did the
deserting ! Since you had to rake the story up, you
might have had the fairness to tell the facts.
MlSS L. You think " the facts " would have excused
you ! (She sits.}
STONOR. No doubt you've forgotten them, since
Lady John tells me you wouldn't remember my
existence once a year if the newspapers didn't
Miss L. Ah, you minded that !
STONOR (with manly spirit}. I minded your giving
false impressions. (She is about to speak, he advances
on her.} Do you deny that you returned my letters
unopened ?
Miss L. (quietly}. No.
STONOR. Do you deny that you refused to see me
— and that, when I persisted, you vanished ?
Miss L. I don't deny any of those things.
STONOR. Why, I had no trace of you for years !
106 VOTES FOR WOMEN
MiSS L. I suppose not.
STONOR. Very well, then. What could I do ?
MiSS L. Nothing. It was too late to do any-
thing.
STONOR. It wasn't too late ! You knew — since
you " read the papers " — that my father died that same
year. There was no longer any barrier between us.
MiSS L. Oh yes, there was a barrier.
STONOR. Of your own making, then.
MiSS L. I had my guilty share in it — but the
barrier (her voice trembles') — the barrier was your
invention.
STONOR. It was no "invention." If you had
ever known my father
MiSS L. Oh, the echoes ! The echoes ! How
often you used to say, if I " knew your father ! " But
you said, too (lower) — you called the greatest barrier
by another name.
STONOR. What name ?
MiSS L. (very low). The child that was to come.
STONOR (hastily). That was before my father died.
While I still hoped to get his consent.
MiSS L. (nods). How the thought of that all-
powerful personage used to terrorise me ! What
chance had a little unborn child against " the last of
the great feudal lords," as you called him.
STONOR. You know the child would have stood
between you and me !
MiSS L. I know the child did stand between
you and me !
STONOR (with vague uneasiness). It did stand
MiSS L. Happy mothers teach their children.
Mine had to teach me.
STONOR. You talk as if
VOTES FOR WOMEN 107
Miss L. — teach me that a woman may do a thing
for love's sake that shall kill love.
(A silence.')
STONOR (fearing and putting from him fuller com-
prehension, rises with an air of finality). You cer-
tainly made it plain you had no love left for me.
MISS L. I had need of it all for the child.
STONOR (stares — comes closer, speaks hurriedly and
very low). Do you mean then that, after all — it
lived ?
MlSS L. No ; I mean that it was sacrificed. But
it showed me no barrier is so impassable as the one a
little child can raise.
STONOR (a light dawning). Was that why you . . .
was that why ?
Miss L. (nods, speechless a moment). Day and
night there it was ! — between my thought of you and
me. (He sits again, staring at her.) When I was
most unhappy I would wake, thinking I heard it cry. It
was my own crying I heard, but I seemed to have it in
my arms. I suppose I was mad. I used to lie there
in that lonely farmhouse pretending to hush it. It
was so I hushed myself.
STONOR. I never knew
MlSS L. I didn't blame you. You couldn't risk
being with me.
STONOR. You agreed that for both our sakes
MlSS L. Yes, you had to be very circumspect.
You were so well known. Your autocratic father —
your brilliant political future
STONOR. Be fair. Our future — as I saw it then.
MlSS L. Yes, it all hung on concealment. It
must have looked quite simple to you. You didn't
108 VOTES FOR WOMEN
know that the ghost of a child that had never seen the
light, the frail thing you meant to sweep aside and
forget — have swept aside and forgotten — you didn't
know it was strong enough to push you out of my life,
(Lower with an added intensity.) It can do more.
(Leans over him and whispers.) It can push that girl
out. (STONOR'S face changes.) It can do more
still.
STONOR. Are you threatening me ?
MlSS L. No, I am preparing you.
STONOR. For what ?
MlSS L. For the work that must be done. Either
with your help — or that girl's.
(STONOR lifts his eyes a moment.)
MlSS L. One of two things. Either her life, and
all she has, given to this new service — or a Ransom,
if I give her up to you.
STONOR. I see. A price. Well ?
MlSS L. (looks searchingly in his face, hesitates
and shakes her head). Even if I could trust you to
pay — no, it would be a poor bargain to give her up for
anything you could do.
STONOR (rising). In spite of your assumption — she
may not be your tool.
MlSS L. You are horribly afraid she is ! But
you are wrong. Don't think it's merely I that have got
hold of Jean Dunbarton.
STONOR (angrily). Who else ?
MlSS L. The New Spirit that's abroad.
(STONOR turns away with an exclamation and
begins to pace, sentinel-like, up and down
before JEAN'S door.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 109
MISS L. How else should that inexperienced
girl have felt the new loyalty and responded as she
did ?
STONOR (under his breath}. " New " indeed —
however little loyal.
MiSS L. Loyal above all. But no newer than
electricity was when it first lit up the world. It had
been there since the world began — waiting to do away
with the dark. So has the thing you're fighting.
STONOR (his voice held down to its lowest register).
The thing I'm fighting is nothing more than one
person's hold on a highly sensitive imagination. I con-
sented to this interview with the hope (A gesture
of impotence.} It only remains for me to show her
your true motive is revenge.
MISS L. Once say that to her and you are lost !
(STONOR motionless ; his look is the look of a
man who sees happiness slipping away.}
MiSS L. I know what it is that men fear. It
even seems as if it must be through fear that your
enlightenment will come. That is why I see a value
in Jean Dunbarton far beyond her fortune.
(STONOR lifts his eyes dully and fixes them
on VIDA'S face.}
MiSS L. More than any girl I know — if I keep
her from you — that gentle, inflexible creature could
rouse in men the old half -superstitious fear
STONOR. " Fear ? " I believe you are mad.
MiSS L. "Mad." "Unsexed." These are the
words to-day. In the Middle Ages men cried out
" Witch I " and burnt her — the woman who served no
man's bed or board.
110 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOR. You want to make that poor child
believe
MiSS L. She sees for herself we've come to a
place where we find there's a value in women apart
from the value men see in them. You teach us
not to look to you for some of the things we need
most. If women must be freed by women, we have
need of such as — (her eyes go to JEAN'S door) — who
knows ? She may be the new Joan of Arc.
STONOR (aghast}. That she should be the sacrifice !
MiSS L. You have taught us to look very calmly
on the sacrifice of women. Men tell us in every
tongue it's " a necessary evil."
(STONOR stands rooted, staring at the ground.)
MiSS L. One girl's happiness — against a thing
nobler than happiness for thousands — who can hesi-
tate ? — Not Jean.
STONOR. Good God I Can't you see that this
crazed campaign you'd start her on — even if it's suc-
cessful, it can only be so through the help of men ?
What excuse shall you make your own soul for not
going straight to the goal ?
MiSS L. You think we wouldn't be glad to go
straight to the goal ?
STONOR. I do. I see you'd much rather punish
me and see her revel in a morbid self-sacrifice.
MiSS L. You say I want to punish you only be-
cause, like most men, you won't take the trouble to
understand what we do want— or how determined we
are to have it. You can't kill this new spirit among
women. (Going nearer.) And you couldn't make a
greater mistake than to think it finds a home only in
the exceptional, or the unhappy. It's so strange,
VOTES FOR WOMEN 111
Geoffrey, to see a man like you as much deluded as the
Hyde Park loafers who say to Ernestine Blunt,
" Who's hurt your feelings ? " Why not realise (go-
ing quite close to him) this is a thing that goes
deeper than personal experience ? And yet (lowering
her voice and glancing at the door), if you take only
the narrowest personal view, a good deal depends on
what you and I agree upon in the next five minutes.
STONOR (bringing her farther away from the door).
You recommend my realising the larger issues. But
in your ambition to attach that girl to the chariot
wheels of "Progress," you quite ignore the fact that
people fitter for such work — the men you look to
enlist in the end — are ready waiting to give the thing a
chance.
MlSS L. Men are ready ! What men ?
STONOR (avoiding her eyes, picking his words).
Women have themselves to blame that the question
has grown so delicate that responsible people shrink —
for the moment — from being implicated in it.
MlSS L. We have seen the " shrinking."
STONOR. Without quoting any one else, I might
point out that the New Antagonism seems to have
blinded you to the small fact that I, for one, am not
an opponent.
Miss L. The phrase has a familiar ring. We have
heard it from four hundred and twenty others.
STONOR. I spoke, if I may say so, of some one who
would count. Some one who can carry his party
along with him — or risk a seat in the Cabinet.
MlSS L. (quickly). Did you mean you are ready to
do that ?
STONOR. An hour ago I was.
MlSS L. Ah ! ... an hour ago.
112 VOTES FOR WOMEN
STONOR. Exactly. You don't understand men.
They can be led. They can't be driven. Ten minutes
before you came into the room I was ready to say I
would throw in my political lot with this Reform.
MISS L. And now . . . ?
STONOR. Now you block my way by an attempt at
coercion. By forcing my hand you give my adherence
an air of bargain-driving for a personal end. Exactly
the mistake of the ignorant agitators of your " Union,"
as you call it. You have a great deal to learn. This
movement will go forward, not because of the agitation,
but in spite of it. There are men in Parliament who
would have been actively serving the Reform to-day
... as actively as so vast a constitutional change
MlSS L. (smiles faintly}. And they haven't done it
because
STONOR. Because it would have put a premium on
breaches of decent behaviour. (He takes a crumpled
piece of paper out of Ms pocket.} Look here !
MlSS L. (flushes with excitement as she reads the
telegram}. This is very good. I see only one objection.
STONOR. Objection !
MlSS L. You haven't sent it.
STONOR. That is your fault.
MlSS L. When did you write this ?
STONOR. Just before you came in — when (He
glances at the door.}
MlSS L. Ah ! It must have pleased Jean — that
message. (Offers him back the paper.}
(STONOR astonished at her yielding it up so
lightly, and remembering JEAN had not
so much as read it. He throws himself
heavily into a chair and drops his head
in his hands.)
VOTES FOR WOMEN 113
MISS L. I could drive a hard-and-fast bargain with
you, but I think I won't. If both love and ambition
urge you on, perhaps (She gazes at the slack,
hopeless figure with its sudden look of age — goes over
silently and stands by his side.} After all, life hasn't
been quite fair to you
(He raises his heavy eyes.}
You fall out of one ardent woman's dreams into
another's.
STONOR. You may as well tell me — do you mean
MISS L. To keep you and her apart ? No.
STONOR (for the first time tears come into his eyes.
After a moment he holds out his hand). What can I
do for you ?
(Miss LEVERING shakes her head — speechless.}
STONOR. For the real you. Not the Reformer, or
the would-be politician — for the woman I so un-
willingly hurt. (As she turns away, struggling with
her feeling, he lays a detaining hand on her arm.}
You may not believe it, but now that I understand,
there is almost nothing I wouldn't do to right that
old wrong.
Miss L. There's nothing to be done. You can
never give me back my child.
STONOR (at the anguish in VIDA'S face his own has
changed}. Will that ghost give you no rest ?
MISS L. Yes, oh, yes. I see life is nobler than
I knew. There is work to do.
STONOR (stopping her as she goes towards the folding
doors}. Why should you think that it's only you,
these ten years have taught something to ? Why not
114 VOTES FOR WOMEN
give even a man credit for a willingness to learn some-
thing of life, and for being sorry — profoundly sorry —
for the pain his instruction has cost others ? You seem
to think I've taken it all quite lightly. That's not fair.
All my life, ever since you disappeared, the thought of
you has hurt. I would give anything I possess to
know you — were happy again.
MISS L. Oh, happiness !
STONOR (significantly}. Why shouldn't you find it
still.
Miss L. {stares an instant}. I see ! She couldn't
help telling about Allen Trent — Lady John couldn't.
STONOR. You're one of the people the years have
not taken from, but given more to. You are more
than ever . . . You haven't lost your beauty.
MlSS L. The gods saw it was so little effectual, it
wasn't worth taking away. (She stands looking out
into the void.} One woman's mishap ? — what is that ?
A thing as trivial to the great world as it's sordid in
most eyes. But the time has come when a woman
may look about her, and say, "What general signifi-
cance has my secret pain ? Does it ' join on ' to any-
thing ? " And I find it does. I'm no longer merely a
woman who has stumbled on the way. I'm one (she
controls with difficulty the shake in her voice} who has
got up bruised and bleeding, wiped the dust from her
hands and the tears from her face, and said to herself
not merely, " Here's one luckless woman ! but — here is
a stone of stumbling to many. Let's see if it can't be
moved out of other women's way." And she calls
people to come and help. No mortal man, let alone a
woman, by herself, can move that rock of offence.
But (with a sudden sombre flame of enthusiasm} if
many help, Geoffrey, the thing can be done.
VOTES FOR WOMEN 115
STONOR (looks at her with wondering pity}. Lord !
how you care !
Miss L. (touched by his moved face). Don't be so
sad. Shall I tell you a secret ? Jean's ardent dreams
needn't frighten you, if she has a child. That —
from the beginning, it was not the strong arm — it was
the weakest — the little, little arms that subdued the
fiercest of us.
(STONOR puts out a pitying hand uncertainly
towards her. She does not take it, but
speaks with great gentleness.)
You will have other children, Geoffrey — for me there
was to be only one. Well, well — (she brushes her tears
away) — since men alone have tried and failed to make
a decent world for the little children to live in — it's as
well some of us are childless. (Quietly taking up her
hat and cloak.) Yes, we are the ones who have no
excuse for standing aloof from the fight.
STONOR. Vida !
Miss L. What ?
STONOR. You've forgotten something. (.4s she
looks back he is signing the message.} This.
(She goes out silently with the "political
dynamite " in her hand.}
CURTAIN.
Ube (Srcsbam press,
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED,
VVOKING AND LONDON.
; C~7T. GOT 3
Robins, Elizabeth
271V Votes for woman
V i
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